Trip to Afghanistan
by Piper86
Summary: This series is set following "Enemy Below"... Mac is forced to make a choice that has far reaching consequences for both her and Harm. NOTE! mostly PG-13, with one R rated chapter (for adult situations)
1. Default Chapter

Title: A TRIP TO AFGHANISTAN (Part I)  
Category: AD/R  
Author:Piper86  
Email:improvkris@yahoo.com  
Rating:PG-13 for violence  
Classification:Harm/Mac pairing, JAG story  
Spoilers:Enemy Below, and a little bit of Lifeline  
Summary:This fanfic is my first...so please be gentle. I wrote it in response to a challenge on the Rose Garden message board: Write a Fanfic called "A Trip to Afghanistan" It must include Taliban, terrorists, and a nice Harm/Mac conversation.  
  
Well, I tried.  
  
Disclaimer:I am not now, nor have I ever been a character thief. These characters belong to D. Bellesario and all his ships at sea. I am merely passing through the waters, causing a wave or two.   
  
Also, as far as I know this idea is original. If this story mirrors someone else's, please accept my sincere apologies and my word that it was completely unintentional.   
  
Feedback is welcome, flaming is not. If you think this story sucks, let me just apologize now and we can call it good. :)  
  
  
Sarah "Mac" MacKenzie leaned back against the wall...the desert heat already emanating from it. The morning sun was just now reaching the one small window in the room. Sighing heavily, she pressed her head back against the wall and surveyed their temporary prison one more time. Obviously a supply shed of some kind, designed for security over comfort. The window too small to crawl through, and too high to reach successfully. The heavy wooden door securely locked from the outside, with what sounded like an iron slide bolt. And she was sure there were armed guards on the other side. The dirt floor was packed hard, as her aching backside reminded her when she shifted. Slowly she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She glanced over at the unconscious man sprawled on top of the wooden bunk in the corner. Harmon Rabb Jr. had not moved since their captors deposited him there a few hours before. She watched his chest rise and fall, relieved that he was breathing steadily. She only wished he would wake...   
  
Mac pressed her forehead against her knees, and closed her eyes. How? How had they let themselves get into this mess?   
  
"Damn you, Webb" she whispered through clenched teeth. Once more, he had goaded them into helping him. Once more, they were in danger because of it. Her mind flashed back to the days following Bud's injury in the minefield. She and Harm had been aboard the Patrick Henry when the radio call came in. The Captain immediately called the both of them to the bridge, to inform them of what had happened. She had been stunned, gripping the nearest console for support. She looked at Harm, and saw the color drained from his face as well.  
  
Both had been in tears as they watched the helo bring Bud back from the field. He was unconscious, his right leg blown off at the knee. They stayed with him in sickbay, but he slipped into a coma and had not come out of it by the time they airlifted him off the ship. All she and Harm could do was stand and watch him go.  
  
There were many phone calls to the Admiral and Harriet, seeking information and to provide comfort. Bud was now in the best hands possible at Bethesda. Harm and Mac both felt helpless being so far away. They wanted to be able to help. And two weeks after Bud left, Clayton Webb had seemed to provide them with the perfect opportunity.  
  
He had met with the two of them privately in the ship's ready room.  
  
"We have it on good authority that there is a band of Taliban fighters holed up very near where Bud was blown...um, hit." Clay had said with his usual earnestness. "We need to pinpoint their exact location, without alerting them to our presence, so we can flush them out."  
  
She and Harm had exchanged glances. They could sense what was coming.   
  
"Mac, with your knowledge of Farsi and the culture..." Clay began.  
  
"Hang on, Webb," Harm interrupted, "There's NO WAY you are sending Mac into this."  
  
"Keep your shirt on, Rabb" Webb countered, "She won't be going in alone."  
  
Webb had then outlined their cover stories. Harm would go in as a Red Cross ambassador, assessing the war's toll on the Afghan civilians. Mac would pass as his Farsi guide.  
  
"Clay, the Afghan culture is very restrictive of women. How will they buy me being a guide for Harm? They will suspect us right off the bat..." She had meant it to just be a tactical question, but she couldn't help the sarcasm that seeped out with her words.  
  
Webb had merely smiled back at her, having anticipated this question. "We have an Afghan agent who will pose as Mac's brother. Anyone questioning you will see that Mac is serving at her brother's pleasure. No problem."  
  
Right then, she knew now, she should have said HELL NO. Anytime Clayton Webb said "No problem", the opposite was sure to be true...  
  
Harm moved slightly on the bunk, groaning. The sound snapped her back to the present. She got up stiffly, gingerly walking over and sitting beside him. She leaned over him, brushing the dirt from his face. One of her hands tenderly felt the back of his head, where the Taliban fighter had hit him with the butt of his rifle. There was a nasty bump, and some dried blood clung to his hair. He moaned again.  
  
"That's it Harm ... wake up. Come back to me."  
  
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh man ... did you get the number of that truck?" he mumbled.  
  
She couldn't help but smile a little. "Yeah, I'll report it to the DMV in the morning."  
  
He slowly turned over, now lying on his side and looking up at her. Her had slid from his wound to the back of his neck, stroking it softly. She smiled down at him.  
  
"You sure know how to scare a girl, flyboy" she whispered.  
  
"How long was I out?"  
  
"Six hours and twenty-three minutes."   
  
"Damn. Do you think we had enough time to transmit those coordinates to Webb before they took us? Whooaaaa ..." Harm tried to sit up, then thought the better of it as the small room started to grow and shrink before his eyes. He lay down on his back, shielding his eyes.  
  
"Just rest, Harm. There's not much else we can do right now. If Webb got our coordinates, he should be here with the cavalry in no more than eight hours and fourteen minutes."  
  
"Are you EVER going to tell me how you do that?"   
  
She touched his cheek, letting her fingers trace his jaw line for just a moment.   
  
"Maybe someday, if you're good..."  
  
He closed his eyes again, smiling, and soon drifted off to sleep. Mac continued to sit next to him, her hand gently resting on his chest, feeling him breathe. She felt the warmth wash over her again: the wonderful feeling she got being this close to Harm. She allowed herself one brief pleasure, leaning down and resting the side of her face on his chest. The strong, slow beat of his heart calmed her. Reassured her. There would be a way out. She just had to find it.  
Her eyes closed, and she flashed back to the night before, when they had found their objective. Her "brother" Ahmal, Harm and she had been talking with local villagers about humanitarian supplies, when some had mentioned armed men patrolling the surrounding hillsides. The trio had dug a little deeper, and been told of a small scattering of abandoned buildings further up among the rocks.  
  
Late that afternoon, they made their plans to go up into the hills. If caught, they would explain that the Red Cross ambassador had wanted to search for displaced villagers in the hills. They were going out at night, and would explain that darkness came on faster than they anticipated, slowing their return to the village below.   
  
Mac let out a short, hard laugh. Well, it had seemed like a good plan ...  
They ran into a pair of Taliban patrollers shortly after midnight. At gunpoint, Ahmal and Mac had begun their explanations. She figured her accent must have been good enough: combined with her complexion, they never once thought she was anything but Afghani. The soldiers held a heated discussion before making a decision. They pointed guns directly at Harm's chest and ordered the three to move.  
  
They trudged on in the dark, hands raised. Thirty-nine minutes later, Mac had spotted campfires. She and Harm exchanged one glance. In a flash, they had both turned on their captors, knocking them to the ground. Harm wrestled with them as Ahmal joined in, while Mac grabbed her cell phone and GPS. She dialed Webb, who thankfully answered on the first ring.   
  
Mac read off the coordinates as fast and quietly as she could, knowing the commotion would bring other soldiers any minute. She hadn't had time to confirm Webb received her information. After reading the last number to him, she heard boots running over the rocks. She clicked off the cell phone, and scrambled for some nearby rocks. Her hands scraped a hole in the sand and loose rock, and she buried the phone and GPS in it. She frantically covered the hole again and smoothed the ground.  
  
She turned around in time to see Ahmal withdraw his long knife from the chest of one of the soldiers. The other already had a dark stain spreading across his front, and she knew Ahmal had done the same to him. Harm had rolled away and was sitting up a few feet from him. She ran to Ahmal, who still had the knife in his hand. At that moment, a dozen Taliban fighters came up out of the rocks, pointing their weapons at the three. Ahmal and Mac immediately started speaking in Farsi.  
  
"Don't shoot, don't shoot...we have the Red Cross with us"  
  
Mac opened her eyes, focusing on Harm's sleeping face. She really didn't want to remember the rest, but it all came crashing down around her.  
  
The Taliban had marched them to their camp, only a few yards away. They had all been searched, and Mac was thankful the only things they found were Ahmal's knife, and a notebook Harm had used to write down Red Cross information. Their covers seemed to be intact.  
  
The band's leader questioned both she and Ahmal. Extensively. She never left Ahmal's side, determined to keep their cover. Harm could only watch helplessly, unable to understand any of what was being said. Mac's heart sunk when one of the soldiers placed Ahmal's knife on the table in front of everyone, and pointing at Ahmal began to speak in a language other than Farsi.   
  
A few seconds later, they were dragging Ahmal towards the door. Harm leaped out of his chair, trying to help, only to have a gun smashed into the back of his head. She heard the sickening crack on his skull, and watched as his body crumpled to the ground. She and Harm had been brought to this tiny room, and she had not seen or heard Ahmal since then.  
  
She sensed a change in Harm's breathing, bringing her back to the present. She lifted her head off his chest, and he seemed to settle down again. She brushed her lips across his forehead before rising from the bunk and going to stand under the window. Maybe, just maybe, she could lift herself up and at least see outside.  
  
She overturned the bucket that had been thrown in for their use, and placed it under the window. She jumped up, catching her fingers on the ledge. Using her feet and arms, she slowly pulled herself up. She got about halfway up before her strength gave out and she crashed to the floor. Determined, she got back up and tried again. And again.   
  
By the fifth try, she was angry. The adrenalin pumping through her pushed her over the edge, and she finally was able to peer out the window. What she saw horrified her.  
  
"Ahmal!!!"  
  
He was being dragged out of the building next to theirs. He had been beaten so severely, she could not see one spot of skin that was not covered with ugly bruises. Blood trickled from his mouth. His legs were bent at awkward angles, suggesting they were both broken. His captors strung him up, hanging him by his bound wrists from a post. Two of them proceeded to club his chest with long, thick sticks. She could almost hear his ribs cracking.  
  
She dropped back to the floor, her heart slamming in her chest. Oh god, oh god, oh god. She looked over at Harm. Desperation washed over her at the thought of him being taken to the same fate. She had to get him out of here. She had to save him.  
  
The door opened. The leader stepped into the room. He stared at Mac for what seemed like an eternity, then went to the bunk and roughly shook Harm awake.  
She watched Harm try to focus, and when he did she saw his look of surprise that they were no longer alone.  
  
The leader started to speak to Mac in Farsi. "I regret to inform you that your brother is dead. We only wanted him to give us truthful answers to our questions, but he refused to cooperate. I know there is more to your story than what he told us. I intend to find out what it is."   
  
He paused, expecting Mac to translate to Harm. Her mind racing, she told Harm that Ahmal had escaped during the night. She saw no reason to tell him what she'd seen outside.   
  
"What I think is that you and your brother were using this man. I think you are traitors working for the enemy. I think this Red Cross man was just the excuse you needed to come looking for us. Perhaps to learn of our plans, report them to the puppet government." His icy stare bore straight through Mac. Again he paused.  
  
Mac swallowed hard. She told Harm that they had soldiers out looking for Ahmal,   
and the leader was confident they would find him. She watched Harm nod.  
  
"Since your brother would not tell us the truth, it falls to you to do the honorable thing. Tell me the truth. Tell me who sent you here, and I will release you with this man. If you continue to hide the truth from me..." his calm, measured words chilled her to the bone.   
  
"You have one hour. I will give you that time to mourn your brother. When I return, I will expect you to cooperate." He left the room, the heavy door slamming shut. Mac closed her eyes and listened to the heavy bolt slide into place. Sealing them in. Sealing her fate.  
  
"Mac, what is it? What did he say before he left?" Harm's voice came from behind her.  
  
She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Their cover hadn't been blown. She had a chance to save Harm. If she kept to her cover, he would be released as an unwitting pawn. And she knew she would meet the same fate as Harm. If she broke, then he would most certainly be killed with her. One hour. Fifty-eight minutes left.  
  
Her internal clock already had the stopwatch ticking.  
  
"Mac??" She turned at the sound of his voice to find him sitting at the edge of the bunk. She crossed over to him, kneeling on the floor in front of him. Their eyes level.  
  
"Mac, what did he mmmf?" his words muffled as she pressed her fingers to his lips.  
  
"Harm ... stop. Just stop. Please." Her left hand came to rest on the top of his right thigh. She moved her fingers from his lips, allowing them to trace the side of his face, then cupped it in her right hand.  
  
I have to do this, she thought to herself. I have to save him.   
  
She slowly took his face in both hands, searching it with her eyes. Trying to memorize every line, every feature. She felt his hands on her forearms, rubbing them slowly, gently.  
  
"Webb will get us out of here, Mac. I know you got the coordinates to him. I just know it."  
  
"Yes, I'm sure Webb will get here," she whispered. Just not in time for me, she said to herself.  
  
"Harm, I ... I have so much to say to you."  
  
"I know. Me too. But there's time for that once we're out of here."  
  
She didn't let him stop her. She couldn't, not this time. "When Bud was hurt, I was wracked with guilt. All my talk about going out in a blaze of glory, guns blazing, Butch and Sundance, I was so, so stupid. Bud made me realize I don't want to die like that. And I don't ... I can't live the way I have been.  
  
Harm, I am in love with you. I love you. I have for so long, you are a part of who I am. I can't imagine existing without you." Tears rolled down her cheeks. She could feel him pulling her closer.  
  
"Oh, Mac ... Sarah," Harm breathed her name like a prayer, wrapping her in his arms, burying his face in her neck.   
  
Her arms were pinned against his chest, her head over his shoulder. She felt him speak the words into her skin, his lips moving over her neck. "Oh Sarah ... I love you too ... so much"  
  
She closed her eyes, laughing through her tears. She turned and kissed the side of his head, then pushed on his chest to pull them a little apart. She looked directly into his eyes, seeing just as much love reflected there as there was in hers. She drank in his gaze, wanting to take as much strength from his love as she could, for what was to come.  
  
He took her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away her tears. Leaning towards each other, their lips met. Passion flooded through her as she felt him hungrily devour her mouth. His tongue probed her lips, and she opened her mouth to him. Both started to breathe harder.  
  
Her hands pressed on his shoulders, as they had over a year ago on the Admiral's porch...the heat of the kiss building as it had back then. She had been the one to end it, and now she recalled bitterly the words that she had spoken  
  
"We're getting too good at saying goodbye."  
  
She felt a chill at those remembered words, then pushed the memory away and renewed her assault on his mouth. When they both finally had to come up for air, she pressed the side of her face against his, speaking softly into his ear.  
  
"I love you. I love you. Oh Harm, always know that. Always remember."  
  
Just then they heard the bolt on the door slide back. They separated, and Mac stood to meet the leader entering the room.   
  
"Now. Will you cooperate?"  
  
Mac turned to look at Harm, then back at the leader. She slowly shook her head.  
  
Rage crossed the man's face. He raised his hand and struck her hard across the face, sending her sprawling onto the floor. Harm was off the bunk in a second, kneeling beside her. She could taste the blood in her mouth.   
  
Two soldiers pulled her to her feet and dragged her out into the corridor. She heard Harm yelling for her, desperate.  
  
She was brought to the same building where they'd kept Ahmal. His blood was still evident on the walls and the wood floor. She was ready. She had saved him. He would be all right. It was worth it.  
  
The pain soon became overwhelming. Blow after blow to her arms and legs. Screaming in her ear. Demanding to know everything she was hiding.  
  
He would be all right. He knew she loved him. It was worth it.  
  
A fist ramming into her stomach, making it hard to breathe. A boot stomping on her hand, bones crunching, her screams piercing the air.  
  
Farsi. Only Farsi. You are Afghani. Not American. Must ... protect ... him.   
  
Pulling her out of the chair. Face pressing into the wall. The back of her clothing being ripped. A razor blade scoring her skin. Blood dripping from the angry welts.   
  
Worth it. Save him. Love him.  
  
Throwing her onto the floor, the wood burning the gaping wounds on her back. More boots, kicking her ribs. Questions, demands hurling at her from above.   
  
His face. Every line. Every feature. I love ...   
  
Shouting, gunfire. Boots running across the floor, outside. More gunfire. Silence.  
  
She lay in a heap on the floor, where the force of the last kick had shoved her. Burning pain every time she breathed, which she did out of sheer force of will.   
  
Webb. Made it. Harm safe.  
  
Her thoughts were barely coming at all now. Her body was wracked with a coughing spell, and she spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. The pain exploded through her back. She didn't have the strength to move.  
  
Boots entering the room. A man crying out, dropping to his knees beside her. Cradling her in his arms. Harm.  
  
"Oh god, oh god Sarah!" he didn't know where to hold her without hurting her. His forearms covered in blood from her back.  
  
Her voice faint, weak "Can't anymore ... can't"  
  
"Sarah please, hang on ..."  
  
Almost a whisper, "No ... blaze ... of glory ... just ... for ... love. Kept ... ... you ... ... safe ... worth it"  
  
"You're NOT going anywhere Marine, you hear me?!! You're stuck with me for a long, long time. I love you and I'm not letting you go."  
  
Blackness swirled around her, finally creeping over her. With a last spurt of strength, she raised one hand and stroked it down his face.   
  
" ... ... ... love ... ... ... ... you ... ... ... ... ... "  
  
Her body went limp in his arms. He cradled her to his chest, rocking her and sobbing. Lifting his head, he poured out all his anger and grief in her name  
  
"MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAC!!!!!!!!!!" 


	2. Desperate Hours

Title: A TRIP TO AFGHANISTAN (Part II)   
DESPERATE HOURS   
Series:A Trip to Afghanistan  
Author:Piper86  
Email:improvkris@yahoo.com  
Rating:PG-13 for violence, mild language  
Classification:Harm/Mac pairing, JAG story  
Spoilers:1/2 Cup Enemy Below, 1/4 cup Lifeline, softened, 1 Tablespoon Full Engagement, 1 Teaspoon Boomerang, mix well, bake at 350*   
  
  
CHAPTER II - DESPERATE HOURS  
  
Harm couldn't see ... his eyes refused to focus. Red. Nothing but red. It was everywhere. He could barely feel his arms anymore, they had been wrapped around Mac so tightly. He continued to rock her for what seemed like hours, staring blindly at the floor a few feet in front of him.   
  
He could still hear her voice, whispering in his ear,   
  
"I love you ... I love you ..."  
  
His eyes squeezed shut, head bowing ...  
  
" ... Always remember"  
  
Tears again burned hot on his cheeks.  
  
"Kept ... ... you ... ... safe ... worth it."  
  
He opened his eyes to look at her. His heart twisted in agony at the sight before him.  
  
Her head was tilted back, falling over his right arm. Her hair was damp with sweat. It clung to her face and neck, mixing with blood from a multitude of scrapes and cuts. Bruises swirled like dark, angry clouds on her cheeks, forehead and jaw. Her lips were split and swollen. Her left arm lay slack across her chest, where it had fallen after she'd touched him the last time. Her right arm, bearing jagged red welts, was hanging down to the floor from where he held her. He could see her hand ... the one that had caressed his face in their cell ... and knew it had been crushed.  
  
Rage flooded through him. His mind assaulted him with visions of the torture she had endured. Everywhere he looked, it was as if he was seeing it all in some twisted instant replay. The blood on the walls cried out to him, screaming his name.  
  
Her blood.   
  
His eyes fell on a pair of razor blades lying discarded on the floor. Blood caked on them. His gut wrenched as he realized the cause of the gaping wounds in her back. A vision flashed before him ... her face pressed into the wall, her arms held in place, her clothes being ripped ... her blood.  
  
He shut his eyes again. He took in a ragged breath,   
  
"Oh god, oh my Sarah. My Sarah" choking out the words between sobs. "I can't do this without you. Not any of it. I don't want to be alone. Sarah ... please"  
  
"Rabb! Rabb! RABB!!!" Clayton Webb's voice echoed in the hallway.  
  
The sound was getting closer. Harm didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore. Webb appeared in the doorway, breathing heavily and a little giddy.   
  
"Rabb! I've been calling you for ten minutes, for Christ sakes, can't you even ... ... Oh, my holy God ..." His voice cracked as he scanned the room, his eyes finally coming to rest on Harm and the broken woman he cradled. In an instant, he was kneeling next to Harm.  
  
"Oh no, oh no ... is she ...?"  
  
Harm only held her tighter, his eyes vacant.  
  
"Harm, hey ... c'mon, let me check her ..." Harm felt Webb's hand snaking through his grip around Mac, feeling for her throat. Harm didn't move. He didn't care.  
  
Webb's fingers found the side of Mac's neck, and began pressing gently, probing ... searching ...  
  
"Harm ... she's ... I can feel ... yes! Harm, she's still got a pulse. It's faint, but it's there. She's still with us."   
  
Webb's words snapped the air around Harm's head. He jerked, suddenly awakened from his nightmare.   
  
"Sarah?" he whispered. Harm gently lowered her to the ground, placing his cheek over her nose and mouth. Nothing. Nothing. Then, a faint whisper of air tickled his skin. Then another.  
  
"MEDICS!!!" Webb bellowed, storming out of the room. Harm didn't even register Webb had gone. He was bent over Mac's face, hands gently stroking each side, pleading with her to hang on.  
  
"That's it. That's my Marine. Keep fighting, Sarah."  
  
The sound of several boots pounding along the hallway materialized as Webb and two SEAL medics.  
  
"Holy shit," one of the medics cursed when he saw Mac's condition, "what are we supposed do with this?"   
  
Harm immediately grabbed a fistful of his shirtfront, pulling their faces together.  
  
"You HELP her, and you do it NOW, and you do it RIGHT, or I have your ASS!" he hissed.  
  
He felt Webb's hands pulling him off the young soldier.   
  
"Harm, step off. He'll help Mac. Let him do his job."  
  
Harm pushed the medic away and swung around to face Webb, locking eyes with him. Harm's eyes full of rage and pain. "You ..."  
  
Harm couldn't find words. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. He really, really wanted to deck Webb. But his hands wouldn't cooperate. His jaw trembled.  
  
"Go away, Webb. Just ... just go be somewhere else for awhile."  
  
He and Webb continued their staring contest for another few minutes, until Webb gave in with a sigh and left the room. Harm could hear him start to bark orders halfway down the corridor.  
  
Harm turned his full attention to the soldiers working gently and quickly with Mac. His own weight suddenly became unbearable and he slumped to the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest, his head dropping in utter exhaustion.  
  
"Please, Sarah ..." he whispered "please ..."  
  
The pain in his head slackened a bit as he stayed still, eyes closed. But as soon as he shifted, fiery fingers snaked their way from the base of his skull up over the top of his head. He groaned softly, moving his arms from around his knees, only to find that they were sticking to the fabric of his pants. He opened his eyes. Mac's blood was drying on his skin, his arms streaked with it.   
  
He tried to rub some of it off, the dried flakes rolling up under his palms. There was so much of it. It brought the whole reality of what had happened to her thundering down on him again. He stood up, staggering back against the onslaught of his visions.  
  
One of the medics turned to look at him. He rose and stepped in front of Harm.  
  
"Commander, why don't you go get cleaned up? I'll come find you when we're done here."  
  
"I don't want to leave her." Harm choked.  
  
"Sir, we're doing everything we can. But it will take some time. We have to be very careful with her. There's nothing to be done right now, except wait. Go on, it will be OK."  
  
Harm stared blankly at the young SEAL, trying to register his words. He turned and looked down at Mac. So pale. So still. Blinking, he nodded briefly and stumbled out of the room.   
  
The afternoon sunlight plagued his eyes and head as he emerged from the building. Shielding his eyes, he made his way over to the temporary command center. He asked for a canteen of water, and proceeded to wash the blood off his arms and hands. Red rivulets dripped onto the rocks at his feet. The desert sun made quick work of drying his skin and the rocks. But a faint red color remained. He watched the pattern they made, mesmerized.  
  
He did not notice Webb until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up, then back down at the ground.   
  
"Harm, we found something I think ... ah, I think you need to see."  
  
His head throbbing again, emotionally exhausted, Harm rose and followed Webb. They arrived at a small area a few yards from the cell where Harm and Mac had been held. Squinting his eyes, Harm could see some of the SEAL unit standing around a dark pile of cloth on the ground. As they drew closer, Harm could see it was a body.  
  
"Ahmal," Webb stated quietly.  
  
Harm's eyes went wide. They found him? Mac told me he had escaped. The leader was sure they would find him. He's dead?"  
  
"Yes ... and has been for several hours. You said Mac told you he escaped? How did she know?"  
  
"One of the Taliban came in and spoke to us, a little while before Mac was taken. Mac translated what he said for me."  
  
"Harm, from what we can tell, Ahmal never left the camp. Some of our prisoners participated in his 'interrogation'. The beating he took lasted over a long period, and he died out here. One of our guys found his body hanging by the wrists out here. His ribs are crushed. They clubbed him until his lungs collapsed."   
  
Harm's mind started to spin. The ache at the back of his head clamping down like a vise. Mac had lied to him.   
  
"But why? Why wouldn't she tell me what happened to Ahmal? She must have known. They must have told her ... "  
  
Webb rubbed his head with his hand, taking a deep breath.  
  
"Harm, our indications are that your covers were never blown. They thought Mac and Ahmal were working for the new Afghan government, and using your status as a Red Cross ambassador to scout their location. Ahmal was questioned, and refused to cooperate. Once he died, they turned their attention to his 'sister'. Harm, I think ... I think she was trying to protect you. She knew there was no way out for her, and she made sure they didn't find anything out to expose you."  
  
Harm had been staring transfixed at Ahmal's mangled body during Webb's whole speech. Everything began coming together. That was why she wouldn't tell him the last of what the Taliban leader had said. That was why she had been so desperate for him to listen to her.   
  
He turned and walked away, leaving Webb, Ahmal and the others. He stopped several yards away, amidst a jumble of large boulders. He covered his face with his hands. Only now could he let the full impact of what Webb had said hit him.   
  
She had expected to die, and she didn't want him to die with her. She was willing to sacrifice everything to keep him safe.   
  
"worth it ..." her voice whispering in his mind.  
  
He was blown away by the intensity of emotion that slammed into him. He had never known anyone who could love that much, let alone love him. Tears once again ran down his face.   
  
"Ohhhh, Sarah ..." he moaned, "don't leave me. I would have died with you. I'd rather die with you than be here alone. I need you. Please ... Please ..."   
  
He slumped to the ground.  
  
An hour later, Harm felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Commander? Sir, we've done what we can for her with what we have." The young SEAL said.  
  
Harm blinked up at him. He must have passed out. His head was pounding again from where the rifle hit him. He got up slowly and followed the SEAL back into the room where Mac lay. He couldn't see any change in her at all.  
  
"How is she?"  
  
"Sir, it's not good. She's experienced a lot of severe trauma, and our supplies are limited. About the only good news is that she's breathing on her own. We need to evac her, sir."  
  
"Then let's get a helo out here ASAP, soldier,"  
  
"It's not that simple, sir. The terrain here is hell for aircraft. We came up here after you on foot. The only real safe landing space is back down towards that village. I don't think she could stand a humvee. Sir, we'll need to stretcher her out to the village, and airlift from there."  
  
Harm looked at the pale, motionless woman lying so helpless in front of him.   
  
"How long do you figure it will take to get her out?"  
  
"We'll need to go real slow, make sure she's kept still. It'll be dark soon. That will make slower going. Probably most of the night, sir."  
  
"And the longer it takes ... the more likely she ... that she could ...?"  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. Yes."  
  
"Get your team together, soldier. We're wasting daylight."  
  
"Aye Aye, Sir!" The SEAL hustled outside and scrambled his team. Before long, they returned with a stretcher. Painstakingly, they rolled Mac onto her side, slipping the stretcher under her. They secured her with belts, so she would move as little as possible.  
  
The medics had cut away parts of her clothing, exposing more of her wounds. Harm winced at the sight of them, and said a silent prayer of thanks that at least for now she couldn't feel them.  
  
The sun had already started to edge down over the hillsides when they got started towards the village. Harm shaded his eyes, biting his lip against the ache throbbing at the back of his head. He checked his gear, making sure he had his flashlight within reach. He took his place next to Mac's stretcher. He would not leave her for a minute.  
  
Webb was staying behind to do "clean up". He stood at the entrance to the camp, watching the SEAL team and Harm work slowly down the slope. Harm turned around and raised his hand once in farewell. He then turned his full attention to Mac.  
  
  
The journey was taking a very, very long time. Harm was going out of his mind with worry. The medics insisted they stop frequently to check on Mac's condition. Every time they halted, his heart crept into his throat, hoping she was hanging on, steeling himself in case she wasn't ...  
  
Again her words floated in the air around him, calling to him.  
  
You ... safe ... worth it ... ... love ... you ... ...  
  
"Sarah," he whispered through clenched teeth, "don't go ... not without me."  
  
So far, each time they'd checked, she was still alive. They continued to work their way down out of the hills. Around 2am, the wind began to pick up. In minutes, they were being buffeted by hard wind and stinging bits of rock and sand. The team leader called a halt.  
  
"We can't keep going in this, sir" he yelled over the howling wind to Harm.   
  
"We have to! She can't hold out forever. She needs help!"  
  
"Sir, with this wind, we run a greater risk of dropping her. And that's not going to help her at all."  
  
Harm knew the SEAL was right. He couldn't risk an accident with her. He nodded and yelled "All right, we stop."  
  
Two SEALS took recon of the immediate area, and directed them to an outcropping of rock. A handful of caves dotted the rocks, big enough for two or three men each. They gingerly laid Mac in the cave that best sheltered her from the wind. The medics checked her over again, and hung an IV for her. Harm made his bunk right next to her, and sat down with the intention of watching her through the night.  
  
Her left arm had been the better bet for finding a vein, so the IV was placed there. They had splinted her right hand, but it was purple and very swollen. The medic wasn't sure what kind of use she would get out of it. They had packed her back with antibiotic cream and gauze pads, hoping to ward off infection. And there were sure to be internal injuries.  
  
Harm reached forward, brushing hair from her face. A memory flashed in his mind. Mac sitting by a stream, pale and feverish, a poacher's bullet lodged in her thigh. He had taken his bandana and soaked it in the stream, cooling her face with it. Her eyes closed, like they were now.  
  
He had promised her then that he would get her out of the mess they were in. He made the same promise now.  
  
"Sarah ... we're going to get you out of here, and get you well. I'm never going to let anything get in our way again."  
  
He clenched his jaw at another memory. The two of them on the ferry in Sydney. Her eyes pleading with him to act. His own stupid fears keeping him from doing so.  
  
"You're just like this with me, aren't you?"  
  
"Only with you."  
  
"I guess I should be flattered."  
  
"You should be, Sarah."  
  
So much time wasted over worries that were now so trivial. His inaction back then had sent her into the arms of another man. The time they'd wasted ... that HE had wasted since then. He cursed himself.  
  
"Sarah, I'm a fool. A stupid, stupid fool. But I love you with everything I am, and I am going to make things right."  
  
Without warning, she started coughing and gasping violently. Her body arched, shaking. Blood started to trickle out of the corner of her mouth. Her eyes flew open, not seeing, as her body writhed.   
  
Harm jerked his hand from her face, scrambling to his knees, screaming for the medics. They came at a dead run, sliding into the cave and straight to Mac. Harm pressed himself against the wall, panting. His heart was ready to shatter. The medics cleared her airway, only to have her cough up a mouthful of blood. Her left hand clawed the air, trying to bring it closer so she could get it into her lungs. All Harm could hear were her frantic efforts to breathe, and the gurgling blood in her throat.  
  
"Morphine! Now! Now! Now!"   
  
They were finally able to inject the sedative, and Harm watched her body go limp. One medic turned to him.  
  
"Commander, she's got a collapsed lung. Must be broken ribs that punctured it. We're going to intubate her. Get some more air into her that way."  
  
Harm was shaking all over. He could only nod. The medics worked quickly, and soon had the tube in her throat, connecting the open end to a clear, soft plastic container that squeezed air into the tube.  
  
"We'll all need to take turns with this tube, Commander" the medic told him. "If we can't keep her bagged, then she doesn't breathe."  
  
Harm knelt down beside the SEAL, taking the bag from him. He began a slow, steady rhythm ... squeezing the bag, letting her lung fill, then empty. Squeezing again.  
  
His eyes never left her face. He wasn't just moving air into her ... he was sending his strength into her. Willing her to live.   
  
"Stay with me, Sarah. I need my Marine. I need you so, so much. I'm not ready to give up on you yet."   
  
Outside the cave, the wind continued to howl. 


	3. Words Are Not Enough

Title: A TRIP TO AFGHANISTAN III   
WORDS ARE NOT ENOUGH   
Series:A Trip to Afghanistan  
Author:Piper86  
Email:improvkris@yahoo.com  
Rating:PG-13 for violence  
Classification:Harm/Mac pairing, JAG story  
Spoilers:A little IN COUNTRY goes a long way ...  
  
NOTE:The lyrics mentioned are from the song "Post Mortem Bar," found on the soundtrack to the film "Longtime Companion"   
  
CHAPTER III - WORDS ARE NOT ENOUGH  
  
Harm's eyes never left her face. His hand grew numb as he kept up the rhythm, squeezing a little more air into Mac every few seconds. He could no longer feel where his hand ended and the bag began. Exhaustion closed his eyes, and it was only then he realized that they were as dry as the sand blowing outside. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even blinked. All his energy was focused on the battered woman before him.  
  
She had not moved since the SEAL medics administered a dose of morphine. It had been the only way they could get her thrashing body to relax enough to intubate her and help her breathe. Harm started to shake at the thought of how close he'd come to watching her die. He knew that death was not far away from her. He could feel it crouching in the shadows of their cave ... hungry and waiting ...  
  
Patient ...  
  
As patient as she had been with him, for so many years. Rabb, you're a complete ass, he cursed to himself. All the time wasted. Just a few short weeks ago she had lain in his arms, out here in the Afghan desert. She hadn't even wanted to lie next to him without an invitation. He had given her one, albeit flippant, on the pretext of preserving body heat. He gazed down at his arms ... she had been right there. With him, warm and soft and open. He could still feel her breath on his neck, her hair on his cheek.  
  
The bombing run had broken their moment of peace. In an instant they had been scrambling for cover, another chance wasted. And the next time he held her, she was almost destroyed. Sacrificing herself for him. His chest burned every time he thought about what Webb had told him.  
  
I think ... I think she was trying to protect you Harm.  
  
But she couldn't protect him from the one thing he so desperately feared - losing her. His head sagged as his free hand once more caressed her face.  
  
God, Sarah.  
  
One of the medics appeared at the cave entrance. "Sir, I can take over for awhile. You need to rest. You'll need your strength. The Lt. says the wind is dying down. We'll get moving in an hour or so."  
  
He gently disengaged Harm's hand from the breathing apparatus, and seamlessly resumed the rhythm. Harm could only crawl to Mac's other side, stretching out beside her, laying his hand on her right arm as he drifted into sleep.  
  
The dream came gently, weaving into his mind. He was standing at the back of the cave, a bright fire burning in front of him. Shadows danced on the walls, in the shape of the flames. He saw the outline of a woman at the mouth of the cave. Moonlight shone on her shoulders, framed her hair. She slowly stepped into the cave.   
  
"Sarah" Harm whispered.  
  
She walked towards the fire, staring into the flames. She stopped in front of it, right across from Harm. Only then did she raise her head to look at him. She was naked, and completely unharmed. The hot fire made sweat stand out on her skin. She was so beautiful. The flames leapt higher, licking the cave's low ceiling. Her eyes never left his.  
  
He felt a hot wind swirl around him. He shielded his eyes and stepped back from the fire, which the wind had turned in his direction. He looked again at Mac, who was slowly raising her arms out to her sides. They were covered in ugly, bleeding welts. Harm screamed her name, only to see a jagged red slash appear across her chest. She tilted her head back suddenly, as if she'd been struck. Harm tried to reach her, but the fire kept him at bay, a slave to its will. Whichever way he went, it followed him, spurred on by the hot wind.  
  
Then he saw them ... the shadows on the cave walls. No longer reflections of the flames. They were faces. No, one face ... the same face. Smiling, almost laughing. Shadow arms reached out along the cave walls towards Mac. Harm saw her spin as they grabbed at her flesh. He watched as these demon arms dug angry slits into the skin of her back.  
  
The arms spun her again, lifting her off the ground. She hung there, arms and legs outstretched, her body slowly being destroyed. Harm frantically tried to reach her, crying out her name. Her eyes never left his. The look in them was one of pure suffering. He watched as tears formed on her cheeks. Tears that soon turned to drops of blood. It was then that a shadow reached down from the ceiling, covering her face in darkness.  
  
"SARAH!!!!!" Harm screamed, bolting upright from his position beside her. He was covered in sweat, pale and breathing raggedly.  
  
"Sir! Are you all right?" the medic asked him, obviously worried. "You were having some nightmare, from the sound of it."   
  
"Sarah ... Colonel MacKenzie ... she's ...?" Harm stammered.  
  
"No change, sir. She's holding on."  
  
Harm shakily got to his feet, stumbling outside and gasping deep breaths of the cool night air. The wind had completely died down. He saw the SEAL team packing their gear and preparing to move. He turned around and looked back into the cave. The second medic came up behind Harm, and passed under him to talk to his partner. Two more SEALS came up with Mac's stretcher. In a few minutes, they once more had her secured and ready for transport.  
  
Harm was too exhausted to continue her breathing, but he insisted on walking beside her. The team continued picking their way through the sand and loose rocks. Every so often they would stop, check Mac, and trade off the person giving her air. For three hours they continued, finally seeing lights from the village in the far distance. The RIO called in their location, requesting an immediate medical evacuation to the Patrick Henry. He then turned to Harm.  
  
"Sir, that helo should be at the village when we arrive. They'll take you both back to the Henry."  
  
Harm could only nod. Ever since they had gotten back underway, he had been plagued by his nightmare. Mac's body tortured in front of him. And the shadows claiming her ... he shuddered at the memory of it. He pressed on, never leaving her stretcher.  
  
The lights from the village didn't seem to be getting any closer. His headache had returned with a vengeance. He was thankful for the darkness, the bright sun may very well have overwhelmed him. His eyes were half closed, his hand gently touching Mac's shoulder now and then.   
  
They finally came out of the hills to the helo waiting for them just outside the village. The SEALS made quick work loading Mac into the copter, while the medics gave a rundown of her condition to the crew. In the meantime, Harm hauled himself into the aircraft. He would not leave her. One of the helo crew grabbed him by the arm and started to ask him a question, but the look Harm gave him stopped the young man cold. He released Harm's arm and let him be, sitting next to Mac.  
  
Harm searched out the medics, giving them a nod of thanks as the helo door slid shut. Both nodded in return, snapping to a sharp salute. Harm then turned his attention to Mac, as the helo crew did a full assessment of her.  
  
It took what seemed seconds to reach the ship, compared to the hell they went through to get to the village. Mac was carefully unloaded on deck and swept away to sickbay. Harm tried to keep up, but fell off the pace as his body finally rebelled against him. An ensign noticed his obvious exhaustion and helped him the rest of the way to sickbay.   
  
Harm could not see Mac while they worked on her. A nurse attended to his head, cleaning and bandaging the wound. She warned Harm about the possibilities of a concussion. He nodded absently, still focused on Mac, and on his nightmare. He didn't like not being able to see her.  
  
Both he and the nurse jumped as they heard a heart monitor start to flatline. The nurse ran to the other compartment, Harm gripping the table underneath him. He thought he saw shadows ... arms ... dancing along the walls of the medical unit. Headed towards Mac.  
  
"Nooooooo!!!!" He cried out, running after the apparitions. They dissolved into a mist as he reached the door, hearing the return of a heartbeat to the monitor.  
  
The medical team breathed sighs of relief. She was still with them. Still alive. As the crowd of people started to separate, Harm could see Mac lying on an exam table. They had her on a respirator. The tubing snaked its way from her mouth to a noisy little machine sitting under the heart monitor.  
  
"Commander, come in." urged one of the staff.  
  
Harm felt himself being pulled into the compartment. Mac lay before him, black and purple bruises standing out against her unnaturally pale skin. She looked unreal. But her chest was rising visibly, and she was alive. Alive.  
  
He walked over to her, leaning over and letting one finger trace the hair away from her forehead. Only then did he realize that her eyes were open slightly. His breath caught as they opened further, revealing the soft brown eyes he knew so well. They tried to focus on him. He eagerly touched her face, careful not to hurt her.   
  
"That's it Sarah. You're on the Henry. We got you out. You're going to be all right. You're ..."  
  
She continued to look at him, stopping his words. The eyes gazing up at him were brimming with emotion. Relief. Love. And so much pain.   
  
He returned her gaze, locking eyes with her. His hand slipped to her throat, gently stroking it with his thumb. Sweeping under her jaw line, careful not to disturb the ventilator hoses. His other hand slid under her head, cradling the back of it with his palm. He opened and closed his mouth, too overwhelmed to speak.   
  
Slowly, he lowered his face to hers. Their eyes never leaving each other's. He tenderly brushed his lips over her drooping eyelids, closing his own eyes as he did. He didn't dare do more, not wanting to cause her any more pain. He slowly pulled back from her, opening his eyes again. He watched her struggle to open her eyes, using every bit of strength she had. She was looking straight into his soul, her eyes full. He watched as a single tear made its way down her cheek. He gingerly kissed it away. He tasted its saltiness on his lips.  
  
They stayed that way for hours, no words between them.  
  
The silence saying everything.  
  
  
THIRTY SIX HOURS LATER  
FLIGHT DECK  
USS PATRICK HENRY  
  
Harm found himself making yet another appearance on deck, scanning the horizon for the medivac helo that start Mac on the journey home. The deck crew visibly shuddered when they saw him coming, preparing for their hundredth go-round with the anxious Navy Commander. Harm knew he was making a nuisance of himself, but some outside force compelled him. He had to make sure that everything was all right, running as expected, and that nothing would keep Mac from getting on this flight and to Bethesda. He had already cleared it with Admiral Chegwidden to fly back with her. The ship's doctor, Lt. Commander Haskett, had given him something for his headaches, and they were now under control. He was completely focused on Mac now.  
  
It had been rough going since they returned from the Afghan village. Mac's heart had stopped briefly when she was first brought to sickbay. The medical team had resuscitated her, and she had regained consciousness for a while. Harm had refused to leave her for a second.   
  
Some hours later she had closed her eyes, and not opened them again. Her body temperature fluctuated wildly, and her heartbeat was irregular at best. The medical officers had worked nonstop over the past 28 hours, since she became unconscious, trying desperately to stabilize her enough for evac. But the longer they waited, the more time became their enemy. Harm knew the clock was ticking, and it drove him close to frenzy.  
  
After being told the helo was on time, due in the next hour, Harm retreated back to sickbay. He kept his time away from Mac to a bare minimum, not wanting to miss it should she wake up again. He bent his head to step into the compartment, immediately checking the monitors surrounding Mac. He couldn't see any change from when he left a few minutes before. Minutes. Ticking away.  
  
He returned to his seat beside Mac, his fingers resuming a gentle, well-worn pattern up and down a bare patch of skin on her left arm. Her bruises had fully formed now, a few turning sickly yellow green, others still horribly black and purple. Her hair was wet, stuck to her forehead. She was feverish again. He reached for one of the wet cloths by his chair, and started to gently pat her forehead and cheeks. The sound of the respirator droned in the back of his head. A constant reminder that she was hanging on, but that she still might not...  
  
"Rabb! pull it together," he chastised himself, she'll need you when she comes around.   
  
Harm heard Lt. Commander Haskett coming into the compartment. Glancing up at him briefly, he nodded, then returned his full attention to Mac.   
  
"Good morning, Commander," Haskett murmured.   
  
Harm felt a pang of apprehension ... this was not his usual greeting.  
  
"I understand the helo will be here within the hour, and I wanted to spend some time with you before we get Colonel MacKenzie out of here."  
  
Harm slowly turned to face Haskett, his hand now coming to rest on Mac's forehead, holding a damp cloth in place. Cmdr. Haskett wheeled a chair over to sit with Harm, facing him.  
  
Harm couldn't help swallowing hard as Haskett looked down at his hands, rubbing them together. He took a long pause before raising his eyes to meet Harm's gaze. Harm could feel his heart starting to sink, hearing the doctor's deep intake of breath.  
  
"Commander, as you know, Colonel MacKenzie suffered severe, life-threatening trauma to over 75 percent of her body. Her care was hampered by the remote location, and the delay in getting her back to the Henry. We're not equipped ourselves to handle a trauma case like hers for such a long time, not to mention stronger antibiotics for the infection in her back. And then there's the surgery she needs for her internal injuries."  
  
The doctor would not meet Harm's gaze. His eyes dropped back to his hands. Harm stared at the top of Haskett's head as the doctor continued.  
  
"Not that we had a choice. She never would have survived a long flight in the condition she was in when she got here. We did the right thing keeping her here."  
  
Harm blinked, turning to look at Mac's stricken face. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a shadow start to slither up the wall. The nightmare in the cave was creeping out of his dreams. There was a roaring in his ears, through which he heard Haskett's voice again.  
  
"Commander," Haskett said, running a hand through his hair, "Sir, the Colonel ... she ... "  
  
"NO!" Harm's booming voice cut him off. Harm watched as the shadow continued to creep along the wall, reaching the ceiling.  
  
"Commander, please understand" Haskett laid a hand on Harm's arm, "I have to prepare you for what may very well happen. She's still with us, and that's a good sign. But she has such a long way to go. Her body and will are strong. Without them she never would have left that interrogation room alive. But she's been fighting for a long time, mostly on her own, and her body is getting very, very weak. She's tired out, she's ... ..."  
  
"She's STRONG! She's strong enough to keep holding on. I KNOW IT!!" Harm's shouting made the doctor jump a little, and Harm thought he saw the shadow retreating a bit as well. He raged on, "You just get her onto that helo, Haskett. She'll survive. You just get her that far, and I'll get her the rest of the way. She's going to live!!"  
  
Haskett slowly rose to his feet, placing a hand on Harm's trembling shoulder. He spoke softly, "They'll do a full assessment on her at Bethesda. Getting the infection under control will be the first hurdle. Then they'll be able to do surgery and re-inflate her lung. I don't know what they'll be able to do about her hand. The bones are crushed. Commander, I'll get her to the helo. I just can't give you any promises past that."  
  
With that, Haskett left the two of them alone.  
  
Silence enveloped them, interrupted only by the sounds of the machines connected to her. He closed his eyes, and again saw the image of her from his dream. Naked, untouched. So alive. He willed the rest of the dream away, before the horrible scene overwhelmed him again.  
  
He tried to form words, to speak to her. He wanted nothing more than to be back in the desert, holding her under the stars, and this time pouring out his heart. His jaw clenched, working up and down. He let a finger brush over her swollen cheek, down to her neck and over her collarbone. He bent close to her ear, feeling the heat emanating from her skin. Softly, he began to sing.  
  
If I could have one more day with you  
The way it used to be  
All the things I should have said  
Would pour out of me...  
  
He gingerly kissed her ear, unable to continue.  
  
"Oh, Sarah ... God ... please ..."  
  
Hot tears ran down his face, as he felt the shadows drawing nearer.  
  
A voice split the darkness around him.  
  
"Commander, the helo's here. We're ready to move her." 


	4. Struggles In Darkness

Title: A TRIP TO AFGHANISTAN IV   
STRUGGLES IN DARKNESS   
Series:A Trip to Afghanistan  
Author:Piper86  
Email:improvkris@yahoo.com  
Rating:PG-13 for implied violence  
Classification:Harm/Mac pairing, JAG story  
Spoilers:Just a touch of Lifeline  
  
  
CHAPTER IV STRUGGLES IN DARKNESS  
  
  
BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL  
72 HOURS AFTER  
EVACUATION FROM THE PATRICK HENRY  
  
An almost eerie calm settled over the critical care unit. Just a few hours before, the halls were frantic with activity. Trauma doctors had scrambled to assess and treat the torture victim transported here from the Patrick Henry. Listening to the patient history, taking readings, shouting orders to the trauma team, keeping her alive.  
  
All the while a lone figure had stood in the hallway, his eyes staring through the trauma room windows at the victim. He spoke to no one. He did not, and would not, move aside. In his silence, there were screams. Medical staff passing in and out of the room could almost hear his pain. The patient had crashed twice, each time sending daggers of anguish through her silent watcher.  
  
They had finally stabilized her and moved her to critical care. The ward returned to some sense of normalcy. Unhurried footsteps padded through the corridors. Machines beeped and hummed. The every day drone starting to ease away the memory of the desperate efforts of a few hours ago.  
  
At the end of the hallway, one door remained open. A solitary figure lay surrounded by machines keeping sentry on her. She had been propped up on her left side, to better access the festering wounds on her back. Her mangled, splinted right hand lay on top of her, keeping any pressure off of it. Her left arm was extended, palm up, to receive IV medication.  
  
She lay facing the window. Early morning sunlight grazed over her face, adding grotesque highlights to her scars and bruises. The skin behind her wounds deathly pale. Her eyes sunken and closed. Her lips cracked and dry from the tube inserted to maintain her breathing.  
  
Alone in her room, Sarah MacKenzie struggled against the darkness.   
  
She floated in blackness and pain. They had been Mac's constant companions for so long now. Her mind vacillated. Time swirled around her, plagued her, thrashed her mind as much as the beatings had thrashed her body. Her awareness of the world came in blinding flashes. Pieces that didn't fit together, didn't make sense to her.   
  
Ugly dreams of relived horrors, her flesh being torn, her body broken. Screams died in her throat, unable to escape. Long periods of heavy stillness, her body unable to move.   
  
  
It was in that stillness that the Shadow came. Crouching in her mind's eye, just enough out of view. Staring ... taunting ...   
  
Waiting.  
  
An almost angelic voice singing softly to her, relaxing her, making the effort of living seem so pointless. Offering her the chance for rest. Offering her body a peace that it ached for.   
  
She had almost given in to the voice so many times. It would be so easy. So easy. No pain. Shadow hands reached out to caress her, cradle her. She had lain back against them, feeling their support. The shadow hands stretched out into a silvery path before her, calling her to come, and she longed to follow it. To just ... stop.   
  
The voice sang to her of how light and free she would be without the burden of her body. She could feel herself lifting, floating. The shadow was waiting. All she had to do was reach out to it...  
  
  
But there was another face, another voice calling to her. One full of anguish and longing, calling out to her, begging her to hang on. One face at the center of her awareness, an anchor for her in the sea of darkness.  
  
Harm.  
  
She could feel his presence. He was never far away, his voice sometimes reaching her through the blackness. She desperately wanted to reach out to him, feel his warmth around her. But she could not feel him. For now, it was enough for her to know he was near.   
  
She felt him now, more powerfully than before. She could almost hear him crying out to her. Cold tendrils snaked their way through her mind. He was afraid. Frantic. Angry. She felt the shadow slip a little further away, shrinking from Harm. Calling her still, but not as strongly as before.  
  
She held onto the memory of the last moment she touched him. He had cradled her bleeding and broken in his arms, and she had given her last bit of strength to reach up and caress his face. She focused her will on seeing that face again. And she had, waking up in sickbay with his beautiful face next to hers. His lips and fingers brushing over her. She had stared into his eyes for as long as she could. When exhaustion claimed her, the vision of him accompanied her into darkness.  
  
But with the reality of Harm came the reality of her body. Her agony returned every time she drew near consciousness. She could feel something lodged in her throat, forcing her to breathe. Every rush of air a new source of torture in her chest. Her back was on fire, her limbs useless. Any movement sent shock waves through her ravaged body. She hung on. Hung on for him.   
  
Another black dream came crashing down on her. Her face pressed into a rough wall. Her back torn open. Her mind reeled at the relived nightmare. Angry voices shouting all around her, demanding truth. A boot slamming into her ribs again and again.  
  
Shock waves traveled the full length of her body. The machines monitoring her condition began to register rapidly fluctuating pulse and blood pressure. As her mind relived her horror, it once more traumatized her already weary body.   
  
So ... ... so tired. Just ... ... stop.   
  
But he was there again. His face flashed in her mind, hovering over her. She had come awake briefly during the evac from the Henry. She could feel herself being carried to the flight deck, loaded onto a helo. Takeoff. She had no sense of how long they had been airborne. But she knew they were headed home. She had to try. Had to see. She had directed her efforts to her opening her eyes. Slowly, her heavy lids had retreated. And she had seen him.  
  
  
He had reacted instantly when he saw her awake. He was on his knees beside her, his thumb stroking her skin. He did not try to speak over the sound of the aircraft. She felt his lips pressed to her forehead. Then he had pulled back and mouthed words so she could see.  
  
LOVE ... YOU ... SARAH  
  
His hand had drifted down to cover her left one, careful not to use too much pressure. The other hand had continued to gently stroke her face. Before long, his fingers were wet.   
  
Mac felt herself crying. The words he mouthed to her filling her heart, spilling from her eyes. She watched his face change as his fingers swept away her tears. She felt his warmth on her hand, and gathering what little strength she had left, squeezed.  
  
She had seen him feel her hand briefly try and grip his fingers. He broke eye contact long enough to look at her left hand, hope and disbelief mixing his expression. She had felt him lift her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. Returning his gaze to meet hers, he gently kissed her hand.   
  
She soon felt his tears on her hand, cool and wet. She struggled to stay with him, to squeeze his hand again. But she hadn't the strength. She blinked once, then felt the darkness take her. She had not wakened since then. She had not seen or heard Harm. And the shadow's voice had returned, even stronger than before. Teasing her, offering to take away all the pain.   
  
Please, Harm.  
  
She continued to resist. She clung weakly to the images of Harm in her mind, warding off the temptation to let go. But it was getting harder and harder to turn her back on the shadows.   
  
Harm. Please, Harm.  
  
He answered her cries, coming to her in a dream. Her thoughts drifted to the Taliban holding cell. She felt his mouth on hers, warm and exploring, full of tenderness. Her hands touching his face, his strong arms around her. Her spirit swelled at the memory. She grasped onto it, and again felt the shadow slip away, if only a little.  
  
The surroundings began to change. She was back on the Admiral's porch, reaching to take her purse from Harm. Their fingers touched, sending a jolt of electricity through her. Her lips parted in a slight gasp, and she raised her eyes to meet his penetrating gaze. Losing herself in his kiss, feeling his warm hands sliding up her back, soothing her.  
  
"What do you want most?"  
  
"What I want ... is never to lose you ..."  
  
She felt his warmth now. She felt it in her mind, imagining his gentle, cautious hands stroking her wounded back, soothing her. Caressing her face and body. Breathing new strength into her.  
  
A trauma nurse stepped into Mac's room to check on her. She detected no change in her, no movement. Completely unaware of the desperate struggle raging inside. The nurse deftly changed one of the IV bags, made notes in the chart, and turned to leave.  
  
She was met at the door by Harmon Rabb. He entered Mac's room tentatively, eyes downcast. His shoulders hunched, his step uncertain. The nurse saw a man on the verge of losing hope...losing everything. Feeling a pang of sympathy for the wreck of a man before her, the nurse reached out and gently rubbed his arm. She encouraged him into the room, pulling a chair towards the bed for him. He stared up at her, eyes moist, and nodded his thanks. She left the two of them alone.  
  
Light came in from the window behind him, softly framing her beaten face. Sunlight danced about the room, the machines throwing odd shadows on the walls. His eyes glazed over, no longer really seeing. Her face a blur before him.  
  
He had not let himself sleep since she had regained consciousness on the way back to the states. His body was starting to assail him now, punishing him for the lack of rest. But he could not risk missing her come awake again.  
  
He did not want to face the dreams again.  
  
His dreams were still being plagued by the Shadow. Every time Harm closed his eyes, the demon was there. Every time, Harm found himself back in the cave, roped in by flames, and Mac dying before him.   
  
He violently shook his head, rubbing his eyes to come out of it. He focused on the noises of the respirator and heart monitor. Harm's back was to the window, and he was facing her. His eyes traveled up and down her still form. They came to rest on her left hand, which extended out towards him, as if reaching for him. Needles punctured her pale skin, bringing fluid and medication. Her hand was open, palm up, slender fingers extended.   
  
Hesitantly, Harm reached out. His hand wavered over hers for a moment. Slowly, delicately, he let his fingers graze her forearm. They carefully traced her skin, brushing over her palm.  
  
He touched her fingertips with his own. A familiar tingle ran through his body at the touch. He could feel the current coursing through him and entering her, connecting them in a way he had never felt with anyone before. He closed his eyes, forcing his heart to stop racing. Allowing himself to feel nothing but the contact between them.  
  
Once more he found himself wishing away the past, beaten down by the reality of what lay before him. Taking a ragged breath, he leaned forward in his chair, burying his face in his hands.   
  
"Sarah, I don't want to lose you ..."  
  
When he finally found the strength to sit up again, he gasped at the sight before him.   
  
  
Sarah MacKenzie had opened her eyes. 


	5. Hard Road Ahead

Title: A TRIP TO AFGHANISTAN V   
HARD ROAD AHEAD   
Series:A Trip to Afghanistan  
Author:Piper86  
Email:improvkris@yahoo.com  
Rating:PG-13 (adult situations)  
Classification:Harm/Mac pairing, JAG story  
Spoilers:In Country, Lifeline, Enemy Below  
  
  
  
CHAPTER V: HARD ROAD AHEAD  
  
  
BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL  
CRITICAL CARE WARD  
  
Empty space. Machines once alive and noisy standing silent, forming an aura around the space where her bed had been. Harmon Rabb stood silently, his eyes taking in the void before him. His chair still stood sentry by the windows. He closed his eyes, letting out a long, slow breath.  
  
So hard to wait.  
  
Wrapping his arms around his chest, he crossed to the window. Gazing outside for what seemed like the first time in years, he watched the people coming and going below him. Wondering briefly what brought them here. Too tired to really care.  
  
He tried to concentrate on the last 48 hours, since Mac had regained consciousness. The doctors had been unwilling to remove the ventilator, so she had been unable to speak. Harm had never left her side. The staff had forced him to eat something once ... or was it twice? Details swirled like fog in his mind. The only clear picture was Mac.  
  
Surgeons Nathan Caldwell and Meaghan Davis had met with Mac the previous day. They were part of Bethesda's best surgical trauma team, and Harm found them both to be caring, knowledgeable people.   
  
The two doctors had spoken with Mac about the surgery she needed. The infection in her back was finally under control, and they felt she was indeed stable enough to proceed. But there were always risks. The length of time they had had to wait was of great concern. The trauma her body had endured, and while she had improved, she was still very weak. Her right hand was sketchy at best. And the possibility of complications...  
  
Mac had listened intently to the each doctor's long list of potential disasters. Reaching out to touch Harm's hand, she had looked at him, eyes searching his. He could hear her voice in his head.  
  
Should I?  
  
Harm had taken her hand, squeezing it gently, and nodded to her. Blinking back tears, she had nodded her consent to the doctors.   
  
Final preparations had begun immediately. They had brought in consent forms, which Mac had tried to sign but did not have the strength in her good arm. Harm had signed for her using his medical proxy.  
  
Four hours ago, they had come in to wheel her bed to the surgical ward. Their eyes had locked as they disconnected everything but the ventilator. Never breaking his gaze, Harm had watched her disappear down the hallway, nodding to her that everything was going to be all right.  
  
Four hours. The surgeons told him it may take as long as ten.  
  
So hard to wait.  
  
At first, he had tried to keep busy. He attempted to locate Bud, figuring he would be somewhere in the hospital. He discovered that Bud had been transferred to a rehabilitation unit in Maryland. Harm had contacted the Admiral to get an update on Bud's condition. It was rough going, the Admiral said, but Bud was working hard and Harriet was right there with him.  
  
The Admiral had gingerly inquired about Mac, and Harm heard his own voice cracking as he filled in the details. Harm had promised to keep everyone updated as soon as there was any word. He asked the Admiral to send his love to Bud and Harriet, with a promise he would visit as soon as possible.  
  
That being done, he had wandered the halls for a while, lost in thought. His body switched over to autopilot, guiding him back to Mac's room without any conscious effort on his part. There he'd come face to face with the too quiet, too empty room.  
  
At some point, the staff had placed a cot in the room for him. He couldn't even remember when, it seemed like it had always been there for him. He stretched out on it now, his mind filled with visions of Mac, strong and healthy again. His eyes began to fight him. It had been days since he'd allowed himself to sleep. Now, with nothing to do but wait, his body demanded compensation. His body shuddered briefly as his lids closed, and he felt himself begin to drift off.  
  
For the first time since their capture by the Taliban, Harm slept peacefully.  
  
This time, the dreams did not come.  
  
  
BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL  
SURGERY ROOM 2  
SAME TIME  
  
Four hours into the operation, and the surgeons continued to work. They had started with the patient's internal injuries. Their first priority was to assess her damaged lung. Her ribs were broken in four places along her right side, and each break had punctured her lung.   
  
Dr. Caldwell, the thoracic surgeon leading this phase of the operation, swore silently to himself. The lung tissue had been without oxygen for days now. It had already started to atrophy. It would have to come out. His brow furrowed as he worked. This woman was a Marine, he knew, and he felt a pang of empathy for her. Many people functioned normally in the world with one lung. But for a Marine...what would be left of her career?   
  
He shook the thought away and focused on the task at hand. He glanced up at the monitors, asking his team for a report on her status.  
  
So far, so good.  
  
Once he extricated the lung, team member Meaghan Davis took the lead. She proceeded to open the patient's abdomen for an exploratory. She found evidence of massive blunt trauma. Dr. Davis carefully searched for evidence of puncture or rupture. Her stomach, liver, and intestine had been bruised but remained intact. Her spleen was discolored and distended, threatening rupture. Dr. Davis decided to remove it.  
  
She ran the patient's bowel, again finding no evidence of rupture.   
  
One of the monitors beeped, causing Dr. Davis to look up. The patient's blood pressure had dropped, but not drastically. She ordered infusion of two more units, and waited until the pressure started to rise again. She then resumed her work.  
  
-------  
  
Through all of this, Sarah MacKenzie floated in dreams. Her last thoughts before the anesthetic took over had been of Harm, his face fading as she was wheeled down the corridor away from him. And it was Harm that occupied her dreams now.  
  
She found herself back in the desert, alone with Harm under a sky full of stars. Air strikes coming towards them. A mad scramble from their position towards a cave and refuge. Mac leading the way, Harm pushing from behind. She tumbled through the cave entrance, the scene shifting...  
  
She landed on the steps of the Admiral's porch. She looked up at the stars, now thick swirls in the sky, rotating back and forth. She blinked, and felt a hand on her shoulder. Warmth spread over her skin from the touch, and she knew without seeing that it was Harm.  
  
He took her hand, pulling her up onto the porch. Her purse was in his hand. He reached out, offering it to her. She extended her hand to take it, only to find it had disappeared and she had grasped his arm instead. He pulled them close, starting to dance with her. The porch railing moved and swayed with them ... blurring, shifting, until it became the Admiral's living room.  
  
They continued to dance, her eyes lifting to lock with his. Everyone in the room surrounded them, applauding. The Admiral, Gunny, Tiner, Bud and Harriet, Singer. Even Mic and Renee. She smiled at them all, laying her head against Harm's shoulder.  
  
Her eyes caught Turner's, standing with Bobbi Latham by the fireplace. He winked and nodded to her.  
  
Her eyes swept the room again, this time finding Gunny in his Marine fatigues, dirt and sweat on his face. A ragged looking beard sprouted along his jaw line. He was cradling a woman's body in his arms. He looked up at her, still smiling.  
  
Mac felt a little strange. She continued to hold onto Harm, dancing. Her gaze found Bud and Harriet, who had joined them on the dance floor. They both beamed at her, floating gracefully together. The Admiral approached them, handing something to Harriet. She took it and continued the dance. Mac could see it was part of a leg. Harriet held onto it by the boot, the tattered edges of the pant leg rustling as they moved. Mac looked down, seeing Bud dancing effortlessly on one leg.   
  
She gripped Harm by the shoulders, looking up at him. Instantly they were on the porch, her lips meeting his in a heated kiss. She sighed into him, feeling his hands stroking her back. Stars drifted down into the trees, lighting the darkness surrounding the porch. She could feel the intensity of the light through her closed eyelids.  
  
The bright light shifted, evolving into sporadic flashes. She opened her eyes, once more in a cave. The flashes were coming from the air strikes around them. At some point they had built a small fire, whose light flickered and danced on the cave walls. Harm still held her in his arms, his shirt and tie now a set of khaki fatigues. She could still feel his hands on her back. He stared into her eyes, his head pressing forward.   
  
Their lips met again, even more feverishly than before. She opened her mouth to his tongue, feeling it exploring, wanting. Her hands now pressed against the bare skin of his chest, both their shirts somehow cast aside.  
  
She felt his warm hands caressing her bare skin, her heartbeat starting to race. His thumbs brushing over her sensitive breasts. His mouth traveling down the side of her neck. She arched her back towards him, lost in sensation.  
  
The fire continued to flicker, giving a loud popping sound as a larger piece of firewood split in two. Flames leapt up again, devouring the newly exposed wood. The shadows continued to dance along the walls.  
  
They were both completely naked, all of their clothing magically spread out underneath them. She was on the ground now, lying on her back. Harm lay on his side above her. His hand slowly stroked up and down her skin. His lips brushed along her jaw, as his fingers lazily teased her aching flesh.  
  
She was breathing rapidly, electricity coursing through her. Her hips began to move, lifting slightly as his hand drifted lower, over her stomach. Her legs took on a life of their own, bending and moving in reaction to his hands. She could feel his desire as his lower body pressed against her thigh. She could taste his wanting in his kiss. Her skin was hot, she wanted him just as badly.  
  
His mouth broke from hers, and slowly worked along her neckline to her collarbone. Torturously moving lower still, taking his time. Her fingers threaded into his hair, holding on as his lips and tongue worked magic on her.  
  
-------  
  
Dr. Caldwell had finally finished with the patient's chest cavity, completing the final suturing. He turned his attention to Dr. Davis' work, peering into the abdomen.  
  
Dr. Davis had almost completed her inspection. She had moved into the lower abdomen, and as Dr. Caldwell watched, she did a random check of the uterus. What she found was curious ... It was distended, maybe two or three times the normal size. She looked up at Dr. Caldwell.  
  
"Nate, any indication that she may be pregnant?"  
  
"No, nothing in the history, and the pre-op blood test shows negative."  
  
Davis knitted her brow as she gently probed, feeling very little give. She asked for a scalpel, and made an incision in the uterine wall. Dr. Caldwell moved in closer, at the ready. What they saw alarmed them both.  
  
"DAMN it!" Dr. Davis muttered. A huge blood clot had appeared through the opening. She quickly opened the uterus further, trying to determine its size and origin.   
  
It was the size of a grapefruit, and filled the patient's uterus completely. It looked like it may have entered part of the fallopian tubes as well. Dr. Davis cursed under her breath, asking Dr. Caldwell to assist. A blood clot this size meant a bleeder, somewhere. And they had to find it.  
  
-------  
  
Mac continued to revel in Harm's touch. His mouth and hands exploring her. She was moaning, whispering his name over and over. His teasing fingers slowly reached their final destination, and she felt waves of heat wash over her, crying out his name. Her hands wrapped around his upper arms, trying to anchor herself in the storm he had created.   
  
When she was finally able to catch her breath, she turned her head to look at him. The firelight danced in his eyes. She could tell he was very pleased with himself. She gave him a wide grin and pulled his head down to hers, kissing him deeply. She had to pull away more quickly than she would have liked, still short of breath.   
  
-------  
  
Davis and Caldwell carefully excised the blood clot, and blood almost immediately began to fill the uterus again. The clot had stemmed the bleeding, saving her from slowly bleeding to death. Now the two surgeons followed the line of blood to try and find the source. Dr. Davis ordered more units of blood, knowing they had to keep the patient's volume up until they found the source.  
  
-------  
  
Mac lay on her side, facing the fire. Harm was pressed against her back, arms around her. His mouth at the back of her neck. Her face flushed from heat and exertion. She felt him pulling her onto her back, leaning over her. She watched as he moved his body, settling between her legs. Her eyes never left his as he crossed their last boundary, making her complete.  
  
---------  
  
"I need constant suction here, we can't see what we're after!" Caldwell shouted to his team.  
  
Blood continued to fill the uterine cavity, as the two surgeons worked frantically to stop the bleeding.   
  
"There it is! I see it!!" Davis called for sutures, intent on sealing off the offending vein.   
  
"Meaghan, it's the ..."  
  
"I know! I know! But her life has to take precedence, Nate. C'mon, you know we've got to do it."  
  
Caldwell nodded, knowing they had no choice. He took control of the suction as Davis focused on the delicate work in front of her...  
  
-------  
  
Mac had never felt so alive. She lay underneath Harm, the embers of the fire glowing on his skin. They slowly parted, he lifted up, supporting himself on his arms as he did so. Once more they kissed, his mouth deep and hungry on hers. He stretched out alongside her again, his hand resuming it's travels on her upper body. She felt his palm warm on her abdomen. Then she felt pressure. His gentle kiss became more and more intense, finally bruising and harsh.  
  
She pushed against his chest, and he drew away from her, his hand still pressing down on her abdomen. She gripped his arm with her hands, looking up at him. Not understanding.   
  
And then she saw it.  
  
The dying fire cast a hardness on his features. The eyes looking back at her were no longer Harm's. There was no light to them. She cried out as the hand pressed harder, and the now smiling face came closer. She looked deeper, and saw only shadows behind those eyes.  
  
She froze, remembering the shadow that had sung to her in the blackness. It had come again, this time using her own desires against her. Its hand held her abdomen in an iron grip. It looked out at her from Harm's face.  
  
The cave began to curl and spin around them. The movement made her stomach churn. The cave dissolved and she was back in the Taliban interrogation room.  
  
Harm was gone. The Taliban leader stood in front of her naked form, pressing her against the wall. She knew it wasn't really him. The shadows dancing across his face told her that.  
  
She cried out as the hand pressed into her flesh, entering her abdomen.   
  
And as blackness surged up to claim her, the shadow once more began to sing. 


	6. Awaken To Loss

Title: A TRIP TO AFGHANISTAN VI   
AWAKEN TO LOSS   
Series:A Trip to Afghanistan  
Author:Piper86  
Email:improvkris@yahoo.com  
Rating:PG-13   
Classification:Harm/Mac pairing, JAG story  
Spoilers:Not really  
  
  
CHAPTER VI AWAKEN TO LOSS  
  
  
Harm bolted upright, jerked out of a sound sleep by the hand gently shaking his shoulder. He pressed his fingers into his face, rubbing and blinking his eyes. Trying to focus. His mind protested against the glare from the overhead light. When his vision cleared, he found himself face to face with Mac's surgeons. They had both pulled up chairs and were sitting across from the cot, waiting to speak to him.   
  
Harm looked past them to the still empty space where Mac's bed had been. He looked at the window, only to find a reflection of the room against the blackness beyond the glass. He then turned his back to the doctors.  
  
"Night already? How late is it?"  
  
"It's just after midnight, Cmdr. Rabb," Dr. Caldwell replied. "We just finished with Colonel MacKenzie about a half hour ago."  
  
Harm swung his legs over the side of the cot, sitting up fully and locking eyes with Caldwell, then Davis. Apprehension tightened his features.  
  
"How ... how is she ... ?"  
  
Dr. Caldwell took a deep breath. "She survived the surgery. She's in recovery right now, and we're monitoring her closely. If all goes well, we should be able to bring her back to the room in a few hours."  
  
Harm felt a pang of relief. Mac was alive. But then he saw the surgeons exchanging glances, and a sensation of dread crept over him. He mind flashed back to their last hour aboard the Seahawk, when Cmdr. Haskett had tried to warn him about Mac's condition.  
  
...she's been fighting for a long time, mostly on her own, and her body is getting very, very weak. She's tired out, she's ... ...  
  
  
Harm snapped himself out of the memory, turning his attention to Dr. Davis.  
  
"What is it ... ?" he whispered.  
  
Dr. Davis smiled gently at him. Her eyes shone with compassion and sadness.  
  
"Commander Rabb," she began slowly, "I ... we both ... felt it was best to fill you in on everything that went on during surgery. When Colonel MacKenzie wakes up, she will need your support."  
  
Harm felt his hands begin to tremble. He felt a surge of nervous energy catapult itself from the base of his spine to his skull. He gripped his knees with his hands, holding his breath as she continued.  
  
"First, we should tell you that the damage to her hand was not as extensive as we had feared. One of our best orthopedic surgeons was just finishing up on it as we left, and his prognosis is positive. She will have to wear a cast for several weeks, and there will most likely be some damage to her fine motor control. She may not be able to grip very tightly with that hand."  
  
Harm was relieved to hear, but wondered why she had started talking about Mac's hand, and not her more serious injuries.  
  
He soon found out.  
  
"Nathan -- Dr. Caldwell - began the procedure in the Colonel's chest cavity. He had to assess the damage to her lung..."  
  
"What I found was not good." Caldwell continued, "The tissue had been deprived of oxygen for too long and had atrophied. I had to excise the lung. It was a successful procedure, and we were able to remove her from the ventilator. She's breathing on her own right now."  
  
Harm let out a sharp gasp. Mac had lost a lung?  
  
"Too much time lapsed between the original injury and the attempt to reinflate," Caldwell explained further, "We understand the circumstances forced a delay in treatment, and honestly we don't know if we could have saved it even if we had gotten to her sooner..."  
  
Harm was staring down at the floor, absorbing as much of what Caldwell was saying as he could. He felt like a hurricane was blowing through his mind.  
  
"Cmdr. Rabb, are you all right?" Dr. Davis touched his hand.  
  
Harm could only nod briefly.   
  
Caldwell began again. "We're sorry we don't know what kind of an effect this will have on her military career. If she is stationed in Afghanistan, then..."  
  
"No. She's ... we're both lawyers at JAG."  
  
"I see. It is possible to function quite well with only one lung. It will make extreme physical activity difficult, but her office and courtroom duties shouldn't be affected..."  
  
Harm nodded absently, his mind focusing on Mac. God, what she had gone through. For him.   
  
Dr. Davis hesitated, waiting for Harm to adjust so she could. He looked at her and urged her to continue. Her eyes dropped away from his gaze uneasily, intent on the hands clenched in her lap.  
  
"What?" he demanded.  
  
"Cmdr. Rabb, once Nathan finished with her chest, I began an exploratory of her abdomen. I wanted to assess and repair any damage. Her spleen threatened to rupture, so we removed it."  
  
She began rubbing her hands over the tops of her thighs. Harm watched her, feeling his stomach tighten.  
  
"I continued the exploratory, and did not find any major damage in her liver, kidneys, intestine, bowel..."  
  
Harm heard her words and felt he should be more relieved than he was. His investigative instincts kicked in ... she was hesitating, skirting. What was she holding back?   
  
He was not prepared for what she told him next.  
  
"I ... there was some unusual distention in her uterus. I thought at first the Colonel might be pregnant, but blood tests were negative." She looked at Dr. Caldwell, who nodded his support. She continued.  
  
"The distention was caused by a large blood clot. A ruptured blood vessel leaked into her uterus, filling it completely. She must have taken a sharp blow to her lower abdomen."  
  
Harm swallowed hard. "She ... she was kicked repeatedly."  
  
Davis nodded. "The clot put enough pressure on the ruptured vessel to keep her from bleeding out. Once we removed the clot, it began bleeding again. We found the source and tied it off. We ... um ... didn't have a choice but to ..."  
  
Harm stood up, moving quickly to the window. He stared out, unable to see anything in the blackness but his own reflection staring back at him. His ears burned as her words reached him.  
  
"Tying off the blood vessel effectively cut off blood circulation to her uterus. The blood clot caused some damage when we removed it as well, particularly from her fallopian tubes. Commander, I am so sorry, but we had to remove it."  
  
Harm kept staring at his own reflection. His own eyes staring back at him ... accusing.  
  
For you.  
  
He slowly turned to face the doctors. "Go on ..."  
  
Davis stood up and crossed the room to him. "We had to take her uterus, and parts of her fallopian tubes. If we had left them, there would have been too great a risk to her recovery. An infection could have killed her."  
  
"I understand, doctor. Thank you ... thank you for saving her." Harm barely whispered.  
  
Caldwell rose and touched his colleague's arm. "Meaghan, let's leave the Commander alone for awhile. Commander, the Colonel should be coming back here in a few hours. She's going to need your help to get through this."  
  
With that, the two surgeons retreated into the bright lights of the hallway. Harm was left alone, the silence pressing around him.   
  
Oh, God ... Sarah...  
  
He turned back around to face the window. Once more his own reflection confronted him.  
  
Look at what she has suffered for you. What have you done?  
  
Out in the darkness, floating just at the edge of his view, the Shadow's face appeared.   
  
  
BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL  
CRITICAL CARE UNIT  
48 HOURS LATER  
  
  
Mac had drifted in and out of consciousness since they'd brought her back to the room. The monitors had once more resumed their militant hum, tracking her vital signs. Harm was glad for the silence of the ventilator, as she continued to breath on her own.  
  
He had refused to leave the room, stating clearly that he wasn't going anywhere until she became fully conscious. He had stayed when the nurses came to change her surgical dressings. Keeping out of the way, he watched as they slowly began to remove the padding covering her incisions.  
  
He staggered back a little at the sight of her. Two huge trails snaked their way over her skin, one down the center of her chest and the other curling around her stomach. The angry bruising around them hit him full in the chest.   
  
When they gingerly rolled her onto her side, he got a full view of the scars forming on her back. The nurses were careful not to stretch her skin, for fear of reopening the wounds. Harm winced, as he did every time he saw them. The blood-caked razor blades lying on the interrogation room floor danced before his eyes.  
  
Mac's first ventures into consciousness had consisted of brief eye flutters and a little movement. Harm had pulled his chair right up next to her bed, waiting to see her soft brown eyes. But they had only teased him, her lids becoming too heavy as she drifted off again.  
  
Harm now leaned back in his chair, staring out the window. She was lying on her back, her left arm exposed along the side of her body. He was absently stroking it with his fingertips, lost in thought. He felt her shift and snapped his attention back to her.  
  
Her head turned toward him, her eyes fully open. She gave him a weak smile as he placed his arms on the bed and gently touched her face.  
  
"Hey, sailor," the words cracked in her dry throat.  
  
"Hey there, Marine", he countered, "about time you came around."  
  
"Mmmm. Tired. Bad dreams."  
  
Harm laced his fingers through hers. "You're going to be OK, Sarah."  
  
She blinked slowly, and he felt her trying to lift her hand. She got it a few inches off the bed before she had to let it drop, exhausted from the effort. He gently picked it up, holding it to his face.  
  
She smiled. "You feel good,"  
  
"Not as good as you," he laughed softly.  
  
The moment was broken as the door opened, causing both of them to look and see Dr. Davis entering the room.  
  
"Well, HELLO Colonel!" she smiled as she approached the bed. "Welcome back!" She took Mac's chart and scribbled some notes, then returned her attention back to Mac.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"Tired ... thirsty ... " Mac whispered.  
  
"You've been through a major trauma and surgery. It's OK to be a little tired," Davis smiled. "Commander, it's all right to get the Colonel some water."  
  
Harm was up immediately, filling the bedside pitcher and a cup. He slid his hand behind Mac's head, lifting her lips to meet the cup. She took a few sips, and he laid her back down. Her eyes didn't leave his.  
  
"Ahem ... " their attention was diverted back to Dr. Davis, "In a few days, we will be setting up your physical therapy schedule. We'll have you up and walking, doing some breathing rehab, and a little later on get you working on your hand."  
  
"Breathing ... ?" Mac's face was a question mark.  
  
Davis pulled a chair up to Mac's bed, opposite Harm. She leaned forward on her arms. "Colonel, I'm afraid that we were unable to save your damaged lung. We had to remove it."  
  
Harm watched Mac's face as Davis' words sank in. He could see the Marine in her coming to the surface.   
  
"Service ... still ... ?" Mac struggled to speak.  
  
Davis nodded her understanding. "Given your assignment to JAG, this should not affect your ability to perform your duties."  
  
Harm felt the tension ease out of her body. Her fingers pressed weakly against his.  
  
"Colonel, I am also going to recommend counseling sessions for you, as part of your recovery. You have been through an ordeal, and we need to address your emotional as well as physical recovery."  
  
Mac looked up at Harm, and he nodded to her. "I think it's a good idea, Sarah."  
  
Mac returned her gaze to the doctor. Harm saw that Davis was about to fill her in on the rest. He stopped her.  
  
"Dr. Davis, would you mind if Sarah and I were alone for awhile. We've got a few things to talk about."  
  
He saw the surprised look on Davis' face. She hesitated, then rose from her chair.  
  
"Um, all right. Colonel, I'll be back soon to check on you. Commander, may I see you out in the hall for a moment?"  
  
Harm gave Mac's hand a light kiss before placing it back on the bed. He touched her face, then followed Davis outside. She immediately confronted him.  
  
"Commander, in my experience, the sooner a patient knows their full condition, the better they are able to deal with it ..."  
  
"Dr. please," Harm interrupted, "I know she needs to know everything. I ... I'm sorry, but I just want her to hear it from me, not you. Let me tell her ... "  
  
Davis blinked, taken aback by Harm's response. "Commander, you have been through an emotional wringer yourself. Are you sure you don't want me to ... ?  
  
"Doctor, I'm not worried about myself, I'm worried about Sarah. I have to. I NEED to. Please, give us this time so I can."  
  
Harm felt Davis' warm hand on his shoulder. She gave him a slight squeeze, then took his hand.  
  
"All right. But if either of you need me, I will be here."  
  
She took two steps backward, then turned and headed off down the hallway. Harm watched her go, thankful she could respect his wishes, and suddenly afraid to go back in the room without her.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he pushed back into Mac's room.  
  
Mac had closed her eyes again. Harm sat down where Davis had been, careful of the cast on her right hand. He touched her arm, and she smiled, turning slowly to look at him. Her eyes were full of feeling.  
  
"Sarah ... I need to tell you about the surgery ..."  
  
  
  
BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL  
PHYSICAL THERAPY ROOM  
ONE WEEK LATER  
  
  
"That's it, Sarah. Come on. One more lap and we'll call it a day."   
  
Lt. Amy Brandle offered as many encouraging words as she could to the Marine Colonel slowly making her way around the room. Amy had been a godsend from the moment she'd come into Mac's room to brief her on the physical therapy routine. Her positive energy and spirit couldn't help but rub off on Mac a little.   
  
"All RIGHT!" Amy cheered as Mac finally completely her walk. "You'll be running marathons before you know it!"  
  
Mac smiled at the young woman, inwardly wondering if she would ever really be able to run again. The past week had flown by, and she had been able to focus entirely on getting her strength back. She hadn't allowed herself to dwell on all that Harm had told her.  
  
She closed her eyes and saw his face again, telling her everything. The sadness in his eyes had been almost unbearable. He had been so gentle with her it brought her to tears. He had wiped them away with his fingers, softly kissing her face.  
  
We'll get through this, Sarah.  
  
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memory away. Back in control, she eased herself into her wheelchair. Amy then pushed her over to one of the tables. She had Mac stretch out her right arm.  
  
"OK Sarah. I just want to get a feel for this hand. See where we're at."  
  
Mac nodded, and tried to relax as Amy began extending and moving the fingers. Mac winced when her middle and ring fingers straightened. Amy nodded, not pursuing the movement any further. She made some notes, then snapped her chart shut.  
  
"Looking pretty good, Sarah." Amy smiled. "We'll get down to some serious strength training for that hand in another couple of weeks. Ready to head back to your room?"  
  
Mac nodded. She was tired.   
  
"Great. I'll take you back, and I think we'll make it in time for a visit from the respiratory therapist."  
  
When they got back to the room, Mike Osgood was already waiting for Mac. Playfully nicknamed Mike O-2 for his breathing therapy, he had been working with Mac since the surgery.  
  
"Hi there Amy, Colonel." He greeted them.  
  
"Hey O-2! The Colonel's just done a lot of hard work for me. Go easy on her today, OK?"  
  
"Sure Amy, thanks."  
  
Mac listened to O-2's cheerful banter as she took long slow breaths for him. He placed a breathing tube to her lips, and she inhaled the vapor deeply. They wanted to make sure she didn't develop pneumonia in her remaining lung.  
  
After Mike left, Mac let out a sigh of relief. She would have 43 minutes to herself before the next round of medical maintenance kicked in. She let herself relax into bed, and closed her eyes.  
  
It seemed like only seconds later when a nurse tapped her shoulder. Time to change her dressings again. Mac was laid out flat and stayed quiet and the nurse went about her business. She felt the gauze pulling away from her skin, but couldn't see anything from her position. She wanted to see ... but then again she didn't.  
  
Alone again, Mac let herself drift. Her mind welcomed the quiet, and she fell into sleep.  
  
A new dream came to her.  
  
She was sitting on the couch in Harm's apartment. Soft jazz played in the background. He was on the floor, rubbing her feet. She could feel the warmth of his hands winding its way up her aching calves.  
  
His hand caressed her large belly. She felt something move. Her heart soared as she realized she was pregnant. Harm moved up to sit alongside her on the couch. His hand rubbing over the baby. She placed her hand over his. She looked out across the living room to see a dozen small children. Her mind reasoning that they must have opened a day care.  
  
Harm stood up and began pulling her to her feet, towards the door. The toddlers had disappeared. Her feet weren't moving. They were sinking a little into the floor. Harm kept smiling and encouraging her.  
  
There was a portable delivery room out in the hallway. Harm settled her into the birthing chair, and she felt contractions. The top of the doctor's head was visible from between her legs.  
  
She heard Harm tell her to push, and she did. She felt a long pressure in her belly, and then the doctor was holding up a baby. Harm kissed her, beaming. She watched Harm cut the cord, and take the baby in his arms. He started towards her, but then handed the baby over to a man in the corner.   
  
The Taliban leader came out of the shadows, cradling the baby and smiling.   
  
Mac started to panic, trying to get out of the chair. Large cuffs secured her. She pleaded for her baby. The face before her warped and changed. The Afghani features faded into darkness. The hallway shifted, and she was in the Afghan desert, in her khakis. The Shadow was holding her baby a few yards, rocking it gently. She screamed and tried to run after it, but again her feet dragged, the ground pulling her legs down.  
  
She stumbled, falling. Looking up, she saw the Shadow disappearing through the rocks, her baby looking at her from over its shoulder. Then they were gone. She cried out in desperation.  
  
She curled up on the ground, wrapping her arms around her waist.   
  
Mac woke up screaming, Harm shaking her and trying to calm her thrashing body.  
  
"SARAH! SARAH!" She heard him through her panic, and slowly began to calm down.  
  
She felt him ease her back onto the bed, looking intently into her eyes. He got up and went to the bathroom, coming back with a washcloth and water. She closed her eyes as he smoothed the cool water over her face, brushing the sweat from her forehead.  
  
"God, Sarah, you scared me half to death," he whispered.  
  
She couldn't answer him. The dream still too real.  
  
"You were having a nightmare. I couldn't get you to wake up," he continued. "Sarah, please tell me ..."  
  
Her eyes brimming, she opened her mouth. Her jaw worked, wanting to pour everything out to him. But she couldn't do it.  
  
"It was nothing. I'm all right. It was just ..."  
  
His hand cupping her face stopped her.  
  
"Sarah ... "  
  
She felt herself about to crack, but she couldn't let that happen. She couldn't fall apart, not now. Her voice hardened.  
  
"Harm, it's NOTHING. Just drop it OK?"  
  
She saw the hurt in his eyes. He pulled back a little, unsure of himself. She turned away from him, unable to face what she was doing to him.  
  
"I'll be fine," she whispered, more to herself than to him, "Everything's going to be OK."  
  
Deep inside, she desperately tried to believe it was true. 


	7. Sessions

Title: A TRIP TO AFGHANISTAN VII   
SESSIONS   
Series:A Trip to Afghanistan  
Author:Piper86  
Email:improvkris@yahoo.com  
Rating:PG-13   
Classification:Harm/Mac pairing, JAG story  
Spoilers:Not this time  
  
  
CHAPTER VII: SESSIONS  
  
  
  
BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL  
PSYCHIATRIC SERVICES  
OFFICE OF CMDR FREIDA LANGE  
THREE MONTHS LATER  
  
Sarah MacKenzie stared at the window, memorizing each pattern the rain wove as it ran down the glass. Last time, she had been enthralled with taking inventory of the leaves on the maple tree outside. Before that, the dots in the ceiling tiles of Dr. Lange's office had held her rapt attention.   
  
It gave her a focal point, an assignment that could justify her ignoring the gentle elderly voice that tried to stubbornly to reach her. The Marine Colonel took a deep breath, letting it fog the window as she exhaled. She watched intently as it disappeared. Her internal clock telling her only nine more minutes left before she could escape.  
  
Before she could run.  
  
"Sarah, why don't you sit down for a few minutes? We're almost done here." Dr. Lange's neutral tone convinced Mac she had no ulterior motive.   
  
She smiled briefly at the doctor as she took a seat, but refused to let herself relax. She would not let her guard down, not when she was so close to getting out. Mac watched as the older woman's forehead creased even more deeply, feeling her eyes. Mac's face reddened a bit as she felt the doctor search her face, using the silence to penetrate Mac's defenses. Determined, she raised her eyes to meet the doctor's, only to see an immense, gentle sadness reflected in them.  
  
"How is your physical therapy coming along?" the unexpected question caught Mac off guard.  
  
"Oh, it's fine. I'm able to jog fairly good distances now. My biggest trouble is with my hand. I can use it, but I still can't make grip anything tightly. I am learning to write with my left hand." She absently opened and closed her right hand as she spoke. Dr. Lange glanced briefly at the motion, then back at Mac.  
  
"Well, good. I'm glad things are progressing. And how are the other wounds healing?"  
  
"I've been off antibiotics for a few weeks now. My back took the longest to recover, but it's been all right. The incisions from the surgery didn't take near as long."  
  
"Mmmm Hmmm," the doctor nodded, understanding. "So tell me ... have you seen them?"  
  
Mac looked at her cautiously, eyes narrowing. "Seen ... what?"  
  
"The scars, Sarah. Have you looked at them?"  
  
Deafening silence filled the room. Mac gripped the arms of her chair and vaulted herself towards the door.  
  
"Doctor, we're only 96 seconds shy of end time, and I'm rather tired. I'll see you next time."  
  
"Sarah,"  
  
Mac paused, her hand on the doorknob. She felt trapped, desperate to get out of this cage. She turned to see the doctor standing, facing her. Her palms were sweaty, and she felt her heart ramming in her chest.  
  
Dr. Lange stared hard at Mac's darting eyes, then gave a heavy sigh.  
  
"See you next time, Sarah."  
  
Mac did not look back. She burst out of the office, running straight into the downpour outside. She tilted her face up, letting the rain wash over her.  
  
  
ROCK CREEK PARK  
PICNIC AREA  
NEXT DAY  
  
Dr. Lange politely folded her hands on top of the picnic table in front of her. She quietly shifted her backside on the wooden bench she had climbed into, trying to ease the ache developing there. She waited for her companion to speak again.  
  
"I just ... wish I knew how to reach out to her."  
  
"I understand that, Commander. And it's wonderful for Sarah to have someone so intent on helping her. But I need to make sure that BOTH of my patients' needs are addressed."  
  
Harmon Rabb looked up at Dr. Lange for the first time since they'd sat down over an hour ago. His eyes searched hers for some miracle answer, only to laugh softly at his own desperation.  
  
"I know, I know. These appointments are for MY benefit, not just Mac's. It's just hard for me to focus on anything but her right now."  
  
Dr. Lange touched his hand, giving it a warm squeeze. "She's got to be willing to help herself first. She has to make the first step. Until she does, neither you nor I, nor anyone for that matter, will be able to do her any good."  
  
"She KNOWS this, doctor. She has to. All the years of sobriety. Taking that first step ..."  
  
"Commander, this is different," Dr. Lange reminded him gently. "Whatever circumstances drove her to drink, however powerful they were, it was still HER choice. She made the decision, and chose to drink. It was then that she gave up her control. She gave it willingly, at least in the beginning."  
  
Harm felt the elderly woman squeeze his hand a little harder.  
  
"What happened to her in Afghanistan was completely out of her control. There was nothing she could have done to stop it ..." She bent her head until she held his eyes in her gaze  
  
" ... and there was nothing YOU could have done either, Harm. Do you understand that?"  
  
Harm felt his eyes begin to water. He blinked furiously, trying to ride out the emotions threatening to choke him. He looked at her, nodding.  
  
She took both his hands in hers.  
  
"Harm, can you ACCEPT that?"  
  
He slowly pulled his hands away from hers. His eyes clouded over, the question almost unbearable. He pressed his hands to his face, shaking his head.   
  
He heard Dr. Lange get up from the bench, laying one hand softly on his shoulder.  
  
"Then we still have work to do ... "   
  
  
OFFICE OF DR. LANGE  
ONE WEEK LATER  
  
Mac had attempted to resume her usual post by the window, but Dr. Lange challenged her, almost dared her, to stay seated. Feeling like she had something to prove, Mac now sat across from the doctor, stiffly at attention.  
  
"Sarah, it is all right to sit 'at ease', I won't report you." Dr. Lange chided softly.  
  
Mac allowed herself to relax. A little. She knew the question was coming at any moment.  
  
"Sarah, last time I asked you if you had looked at your scars. I gather from your reaction the answer is no?"  
  
Determined to be the strong Marine, Mac only hesitated a moment before responding. She had decided to be direct with the doctor.  
  
"No, doctor, I haven't. After my surgery, I wasn't able to see my incisions due to the bandages. I was always laid out flat when they came to change the dressings, so I could never see. And of course my back was another problem. I guess I got used to not having the opportunity."  
  
"I see. All right, what about now?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Sarah, you're back home, the bandages are off. The stitches are dissolved, or should be soon. Tell me, when was the last time you looked in the mirror?"  
  
"Just this morning. I put my makeup on and brush my teeth in front of the mirror every day."  
  
"That's not what I mean, and you know it. When was the last time you looked at your BODY in the mirror?"  
  
Mac's bottom lip trembled a little, and she bit down on it to compose herself.  
  
"Sarah? When?"  
  
"I ... I don't recall exactly."  
  
"What about in the shower?"  
  
"N ... No,"  
  
"It's all right to be afraid, Sarah."  
  
At this Mac snapped her head up, eyes defiant.   
  
"Is it?! Is it all right to not want to see how badly my body has been mangled?! To never want to look at myself again?! To know that my body will always be a reminder of what happened to me and I can never escape?!!"  
  
Mac was practically screaming. Her eyes flooded and hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Dr. Lange crossed over to her, kneeling down and taking her hands.  
  
"Sarah, look at me! Yes, it IS all right. It's all right for everything to be overwhelming. It's all right to be out of control right now. It's all right to FEEL, Sarah."  
  
Mac pulled her hands away from the doctor's, standing up and wiping her face. She straightened her uniform, determined to regain her composure.  
  
"Sarah," Dr. Lange said, standing behind her. "I want you to try something for me."  
  
"What ... ?"  
  
"Sometime before our next meeting, just once, I want you to look at yourself. Even if it's only a glance. Can you try to do that for me?"   
  
An assignment. A challenge. Semper Fi, Marine.  
  
Mac nodded briefly, allowing Dr. Lange to escort her to the door.  
  
"Good. Next time, we'll talk about it."  
  
  
HARM'S APARTMENT  
WASHINGTON DC  
LATER THAT EVENING  
  
Harm cleared away the dinner dishes, placing them in the sink. He would give them his attention later. At the moment, he was focused on the tired woman stretching out on his couch.  
  
Since Mac had gotten out of the hospital, they had developed an evening ritual he had come to cherish. He would fix dinner for her, and they would work on some backlogged casework. She was not back to full active duty yet, and the Admiral didn't want her to push it. So, Harm had suggested these evening sessions as a way to ease her back into the swing of things.  
  
At the moment, Mac looked like she had swung enough. Her eyes were puffy and red. She hardly ate any of the meal, opting to push the food idly around her plate. He guessed it had something to do with her appointment with Dr. Lange, but he didn't want to push her.  
  
"Hey Marine, how about some music?"  
  
"Yeah, sure ... I guess," she whispered. Even a few words took so much effort.  
  
"OK." He moved over to the CD player. "Let's see how you like ... this," he said as he selected one of the discs in the carousel.   
  
Light classical music began to fill the room, violins and woodwinds.  
  
"Mmmmm, not bad flyboy," she murmured as she turned onto one side, cradling her head in her arm.  
  
Harm moved to sit at the end of the couch. Mac's eyes closed, and he watched her as she drifted off to sleep. He gently placed one hand on her leg, stroking it through the fabric of her jeans. His heart ached to be able to do more for her, frustrated by Dr. Lange's words to him.  
  
"Right now, you can only do what she'll allow you to do. It might not be much, and it may drive you insane, but remember whatever you do now, however small, IS making a huge impact."  
  
He let out an exasperated breath. Ok, doctor. I hear you.  
  
Harm slipped off the couch and knelt in front of Mac's head. Her breathing was slow and steady. He watched her chest rise and fall, mesmerized by it. His fingers softly outlined the side of her face, from her temple down to her jaw.   
  
Thank you, God, for giving her back to me.  
  
His touch caused Mac to stir, her eyes fluttering open. In a split second she was sitting up, her legs swinging around him to the floor.  
  
"Whoa, didn't mean to drop off like that." She bit out nervously.  
  
"Mac, it's OK. You were out maybe two seconds."  
  
"Yeah, well, I ... um ... I shouldn't have imposed on you."  
  
"Mac, since when have you ever imposed? It was just a little catnap. What's the big deal?"  
  
She turned to face him, her arms wrapping around her chest. The look on her face was one of sheer terror.  
  
"Harm, thanks so much ... for dinner, and well, everything. I better get going. Tomorrow night?"  
  
"Of course, tomorrow night." Harm got up, following her to the door. He reached for her coat and helped her into it.  
  
He opened the door for her and she brushed past him into the hallway. He gently caught her arm. She turned and looked up at him, her brown eyes full and glistening. He tugged at her arm, pulling her closer. His hand cupped the back of her head.  
  
She tilted her head to look into his eyes. He smiled gently, seeing a flicker of the old light in her gaze. He dipped his head down, brushing his lips over hers. She responded instantly, parting her mouth and deepening the kiss.  
  
He felt her hands gripping his upper arms as he held onto her waist. They broke apart slowly, her lower lip pulling gently in his mouth.   
  
"I love you, Sarah"  
  
"I know, Harm. I love you too" she smiled weakly, then turned and was gone.  
  
Harm closed the door, leaning his head against it for a moment. Then he slammed his open palm against the metal, the sound echoing around the room.  
  
"Damn!"  
  
  
MAC'S APARTMENT  
GEORGETOWN  
THE NEXT MORNING  
  
The sunlight filtered through Mac's living room window, finding her exactly where she had deposited herself the night before. Once she had gotten back from Harm's, she curled into a corner of her couch, feet drawn up, hugging her knees. She had not moved. She had not slept.   
  
Her challenge awaited her in the bathroom. The mirror, which she had so carefully avoided since coming home, hung on the wall as it always had. Only now she found its presence, its very existence, oppressive.  
  
She got up stiffly, stretching. Slowly, she made her way into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, letting the water run hot. Steam soon fogged the room, blanketing the mirror. She sighed with relief, then stripped out of her clothes and entered the shower.  
  
The hot water turned her skin red as she washed. She could feel it running down her body. She shampooed her hair, rinsing the lather. She could feel it running over her scars. But she had grown adept at showering blind. As she worked in the conditioner, she kept her head tilted back. She reached for her body wash, and expertly let her hands slide over her skin without using her eyes.   
  
Once done, she rinsed out the conditioner and turned off the water. The bathroom was now completely obscured by the steam. She turned on the fan, and went out to the bedroom to towel herself off.  
  
As she dried herself, she glanced now and then at the bathroom. She was in a race with the mirror, hoping to be dried and dressed before it was clear enough for her to see. So far she had won each battle. And it looked like she was going to win again.  
  
She went to her closet, pulled the doors open and started choosing her clothes for the day. She would not need her uniform until tomorrow when she went to see Dr. Lange. Her hair was still wet, so she headed into the bathroom to get a fresh towel.   
  
Turning the corner, Mac froze. The mirror was clear.   
  
She clutched the new towel to her chest, feeling her heart starting to race. This is it. Suck it up, Marine.  
  
She stood in front of the counter, the mirror framing her from head to waist. She took a deep breath, and began sliding the towel down her body. Unable to stand the slow torture, she finally let it drop to the floor. Her Marine instincts taking over, she willed herself to look.   
  
Scar tissue ran down her chest, in almost a straight line between her breasts. She reached up and traced her finger down the raised flesh. She then shifted her gaze to her abdomen. A jagged, snaking line wrapped itself almost all the way around her belly. She traced her fingers over it, stopping when they reached her lower abdomen.  
  
Shaking slightly, rubbing her fingers over the spot, Sarah MacKenzie began to cry.  
  
OFFICE OF DR. LANGE  
NEXT DAY  
  
"Sarah, I am so proud of you." Dr. Lange said finally, after listening to a distraught Mac relay the events of the day before.  
  
"Here I am a blubbering mess, and you're proud of me?" Mac almost laughed, wiping her eyes again.  
  
"Absolutely. You have taken a BIG step, Colonel. Being able to look at your scars is going to help you deal with what happened."  
  
"Doctor, I have been dealing with it. I AM dealing with it."  
  
"Sarah, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that you haven't been making progress. But I think it's safe to say that you are a long way still from truly dealing with ..."  
  
"EXCUSE ME? Obviously you haven't been privy to the hours of hell and rehab I've gone through." Mac was getting angry.  
  
Dr. Lange took a slow breath, Mac could see she was trying to choose her words.  
  
"Sarah ... you ... you have been dealing with the physical aspects of your recovery. And doing so admirably. But you won't let yourself open up to the emotional pain. At least not yet. But looking at your scars, being able to let your feelings out about them, it's a major step towards dealing with the rest."  
  
Mac was seething. Her voice was icy and harsh. You tell ME, doctor ... what good could come of me 'facing my emotions' or 'dealing' with what happened?! It won't change anything. It won't give me back what I lost. So I've chosen to move on. I am a Marine. I am going to be just fine. There's nothing wrong with me."   
  
Dr. Lange stood up, moving so she was face to face with Mac. Her eyes were sharp and piercing.   
  
"Then why are you afraid to sleep, Sarah?" 


	8. Sessions 2

Title: A TRIP TO AFGHANISTAN VIII   
SESSIONS 2   
Series:A Trip to Afghanistan  
Author:Piper86  
Email:improvkris@yahoo.com  
Rating:R (adult situations)  
Classification:Harm/Mac pairing, JAG story  
Spoilers:Not this time  
  
  
CHAPTER VIII: SESSIONS 2  
  
  
It felt as if Dr. Lange had taken a club to her ribcage. Mac's heart started slamming in her chest, her stomach tightening into a knot. She staggered back a step before regaining something of her composure. Her hands clenched, and she could feel the sweat on her palms.   
  
"Why, Sarah? Why can't you sleep?" the doctor pressed, moving even closer.  
  
Mac took another step back, her eyes lowering to avoid the woman's gaze.  
  
"I ... I'm NOT afraid ... "  
  
"Oh, save it, Sarah," Dr. Lange interrupted, "You're not fooling me, and you're not fooling yourself either. And until you stop the bull and TALK to me, you're not going to be able to get past any of this, no matter HOW you try and convince yourself otherwise."  
  
Mac jumped as she ran into something behind her. Her hands flew back, and she realized she had backed up against the wall. Dr. Lange had not moved. Her words had been enough to drive Mac across the room.  
  
She didn't want to face what the doctor was saying. She fought to hang onto the thick walls of denial she had so carefully built, only to find them paper thin and wavering under Dr. Lange's onslaught.  
  
Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked hard and fast to control them. She would NOT lose face again. Could not lose control again.  
  
The older woman watched as Mac struggled desperately with herself. The doctor's steely gaze softened, her heart wrenching at the battle raging in the Marine Colonel. Cautiously, she approached Mac.  
  
"Sarah, I cannot begin to pretend I know what it was like for you in that interrogation room. You were thrown into a dark place, and I know it haunts you. I can see it, and I think you can too.  
  
What I ask is this, Sarah. Let me help you out of the darkness. Trust me to be there with you to face it, and together we'll walk back into the daylight.   
  
I promise, Sarah."  
  
Mac shrank back against as the doctor talked. She didn't dare close her eyes, for fear the darkness would consume her again. She felt weak, and used the wall to help her stay up. It was only after she had braced herself that she realized she'd been shaking her head.  
  
"So hard ... "   
  
"I know, Sarah, I know. Look, our time is up for today. I really want you to do some thinking before next time. When I see you again, I hope you will be willing ..."   
  
The doctor did not finish the sentence.   
  
The office door became Mac's sole purpose. She nodded briefly as she made a beeline for it, grasping the knob in both hands. She mumbled her consent to think, and then bolted from the room.  
  
  
HARM'S APARTMENT  
NORTH OF UNION STATION  
ONE HOUR LATER  
  
Mac had promised to do some serious thinking, but by the time she was able to escape the doctor, she wasn't thinking at all. Her mind was a hurricane, thoughts swirling and crashing around in her head. She vaguely remembered getting into her car, but did not remember how she'd ended up here.  
  
But here she was, shaking and afraid. Curled up on the floor outside Harm's door. Frantically hoping he would be home soon. She pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around them. Trying to still the rage inside her, she pressed her forehead against her knees, rocking back and forth.  
  
Her head snapped up when she heard the elevator door slide open. Her eyes opened wide, eager to catch sight of him. But the elevator only produced a deliveryman, who glanced at Harm's door and then proceeded down the hallway. Mac's head drooped, and she squeezed her eyes shut.  
  
Please, Harm.  
  
She had no idea what time it was. Her internal clock refused to work. The shadows in the hallway grew longer. She scrambled along the floor, pushing backwards into a pool of light from a bulb overhead. She stared blankly as the shadows increased, stopped by the artificial light above her. She continued to stare at the shadows on the floor, wrapping her arms tighter around her knees ... rocking.  
  
A warm hand brushed the side of her face. She had to fight to tear her eyes away from the floor. Harm was kneeling beside her, his face full of concern.  
  
"Mac? You OK?"  
  
She did not respond immediately, only blinking at him. Her eyes were sunken.  
  
"Mac? Sarah? Can you talk?"  
  
She felt a hot tear slide down her face. All she could do was shake her head.  
  
"Come on, I'm getting you inside." Harm stood up, taking her hand and wrapping one arm around her back.  
  
She felt dizzy and swayed, gripping his hand and pressing against him. Without a word, he pulled her close to his chest, letting her rest her head on him while he fumbled with the key to his door.  
  
A rush of warmth hit them both in the face as Harm ushered her into the apartment. The warm air of the room was a stark contrast to the chill in the hallway. Harm moved them both over to the couch, and Mac felt the soft cushions catching her.  
  
Harm was gently rubbing her hands.  
  
"Mac, you're freezing. Why didn't you call my cell? I would have met you here earlier."  
  
"I ... couldn't ... didn't know where else to go..." her voice barely a whisper.  
  
"Sarah, you always have somewhere to go. You always have somewhere to be. And it's with me. You know that, don't you?"  
  
Mac felt him lifting her chin, and flushed at the sight of him. She reached up and stroked the side of his face, drawing on his strength.  
  
"Harm ... "   
  
She was shivering, her skin like ice. Harm pulled away from her, leaning back on his knees and frowning. He then stood up, and disappeared into the bedroom. Her eyes followed him, not wanting to lose track. After a few minutes he emerged and took her by the arm, pulling her off the couch.  
  
He escorted her to his shower, surrounded by thick glass bricks. He had pulled some old clothes out and laid them on his bed. T-shirt, sweat-shirt, sweatpants, all pretty worn out but clean.  
  
"Sarah, there are fresh towels around the corner, and plenty of hot water. We need to get you warm. You take whatever time you need. I'm going to see about getting some hot food in you. Then we can talk."  
  
He walked out, heading toward the kitchen. She hesitated. Looking around the room, and finally at the shower, she suddenly felt even colder. She walked around the glass wall, discovering the shower stall and a small stand with towels waiting. She shuddered with relief, realizing there were no mirrors anywhere.  
  
She stripped off her clothes and let the hot water work its magic on her aching body. It streamed over her, snaking its way down to her feet. After a long while, she reluctantly turned off the water. Hot steam rose from her skin, and she watched it dissipate in the light from the bedside lamp.  
  
Taking one of the towels, she quickly dried herself. She took another and toweled her hair, dropping both into Harm's laundry basket when she finished.   
  
She attempted to put her uniform back on, unsure about dressing in Harm's clothes. But it felt so uncomfortable and stiff. She wanted to be able to move. To feel ... free.  
  
She layered herself with the t-shirt and sweats. Everything was too big, and she had to push up the sleeves of the sweatshirt and the cuffs of the pants. The socks were ridiculously large, so she opted to go barefoot.  
  
She emerged from the bedroom and headed for the kitchen counter, where Harm was busy preparing dinner. He looked up and smiled as he saw her approach.  
  
"You look SO much better. How do you feel?"  
  
"Better," she nodded, sliding onto one of the stools.  
  
Harm continued to stir the soup he was reheating. "Want to tell me about it?"  
  
"Not particularly," Mac answered with a hard laugh.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"It's nothing. Just a little misunderstanding between me and Dr. Lange."  
  
"Maaaaac ... don't do that. Talk to me."  
  
Mac could feel her lip trembling. She bit down on it, hard. She tasted copper in her mouth. Harm was still staring at her, with that same focus she admired in the courtroom and hated when it was directed at her.  
  
Harm turned the heat off on the stove. He walked around the counter, leaning against it and pulling Mac into his arms. She felt his chest moving as he breathed, not saying anything else. Just holding her.  
  
The tears came before she could stop them. Soon his shirt was wet, and she held parts of it in her fists. His hand smoothed over her wet hair, the other hugging her tightly.  
  
"It's all right, Sarah. It's all right."  
  
She pushed his chest, pulling back to look up at him. She shook her head, knowing that nothing was all right.   
  
"Harm ... I can't. I can't do what she wants me to do."  
  
"What is it?" he whispered.  
  
"I can't go into that darkness. I can't keep going back to it over and over. It's always there, Harm. I can feel it now. It's waiting for me, waiting and watching. Oh, God!"  
  
She broke away from him, turning and pressing her face into her hands. She felt Harm pressing behind her. But she couldn't look at him. She wrapped her arms around her chest, talking with her back to him.  
  
"She says I can get past this, but how can I?! I've been branded," she touched her chest and abdomen as she continued, "permanent reminders everywhere I look. And she knows I can't look."  
  
Harm's warm hands squeezed her shoulders and then slid gently up and down her arms.   
  
"Sarah, let me see."  
  
She spun around, stunned.  
  
"Wha ... WHAT?"  
  
"Let me see. I want to see." His eyes were full and intense.  
  
"Harm, no ... please ..."  
  
But he had already turned her around. She felt his hands move from her arms to her waist. A new warmth spread from his palms, more heated than comforting. She felt his fingers on the skin of her lower back.  
  
The sweatshirt slowly moved up her body, and over her head. She felt it brush her pantleg as it dropped to the floor. She closed her eyes, dreading what he would see if he continued, but also afraid he would stop.  
  
The t-shirt began to slide up her skin. It stopped halfway, and she held her breath. She heard his breathing quicken, and a short gasp as his eyes fell on the edges of the scars on her back. She thought he would stop in disgust. Time froze. And then she felt the t-shirt start to move again.  
  
Harm pulled the t-shirt completely free, handing it to her instead of dropping it. She understood, taking it and covering her chest. Her heart pounded as she felt his eyes on her damaged back.  
  
She felt his fingertips starting to trace the outlines of the jagged scars. He was so gentle, eventually flattening his hand and caressing her with his palm.  
  
"Oh God ... oh, Sarah," he whispered, "what did they do to you..." the sadness in his voice tortured her.  
  
She closed her eyes, clutching the shirt tighter as his hand moved in bigger and bigger patterns on her back. She felt as if he were trying to erase the scarring with his movements. She surrendered to the heat radiating through her body from where he touched her.   
  
She was not prepared when he took his hands away from her, just long enough to shed his own shirt. She could feel his bare skin touching the backs of her arms. Then she felt his lips pressing gently at the top of one of her scars.   
  
"ohhh..." she murmured, her eyes still closed.  
  
"Sarah" his voice sounded deeper, hungry.  
  
Mac felt herself giving way to his mouth as it gently traveled over her shoulder blades, his hands grasping her waist. The oversized sweatpants hung loosely on her hips, his fingers dipping just below the waistband.   
  
She felt his lips sinking lower down her back, assaulting the next scar. She had never been treated so tenderly. Harm was sponging away the pain, cherishing the wounds as parts of her. A warm haze surrounded her, the only sensation coming from his contact.   
  
His hands began to massage her hips. Slowly, the sweatpants inched their lower. His thumbs caressed the newly exposed skin, urging the sweats even further down. Mac took a deep breath as she felt them finally slide the length of her legs, bunching at her feet. Harm's mouth was gently exploring the bottom of each scar along her lower back. He sank to his knees, hands sliding along the outside of her bare thighs.   
  
"God ... Sarah ..." he moaned, sending shivers through her.  
  
Mac continued to stand, moving slightly as his hands manipulated her body in stronger and stronger patterns. Her breath caught as she felt his fingers slip around to the front of her thighs. Instinct took over, and she widened her stance, placing her legs a little further apart. Harm's mouth had moved to the middle of her back, his tongue gently tracing the scar tissue there. She could feel his bare chest against her legs and buttocks, his hands now slowly stroking her inner thighs. She squirmed against him, feeling a wetness between her legs.  
  
"Harm ... please ..." her voice barely a whisper. But she wasn't even sure what she was asking.   
  
Harm responded immediately. She could feel him pull up to his full height behind her. His hands touched her shoulders, turning her to face him. She kept her eyes on his chest, unsure of herself. His fingers pressed under her chin, and as she met his gaze, she felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Everything she needed, or ever could need, was waiting there in his eyes.  
  
He pulled her to him, the t-shirt now sandwiched between them. Mac didn't know what he was going to do next. But he just held her, stroking his broad hands slowly over her back. She pressed the side of her face against his chest, letting out a quiet sigh as he soothed her. Feeling the hardness of his chest through the cotton t, moving against her soft breasts. She could hear his strong heartbeat, and allowed herself to be lost in his embrace.  
  
His hand burrowed between them, cupping one of her breasts, feeling its weight through the fabric. She tilted her head back, staring into his eyes. She let out a small sigh as his thumb began to caress her, closing her eyes. He pulled them apart a little, and she felt his hand move to her other breast. She felt his warm mouth covering one breast, the warmth burning through the cotton. She wanted to let go of the t-shirt, but her hands would not let it go. She so desperately wanted to let go of the t-shirt, but her hands would not let it go. Her mind was in turmoil. She could not let him see these scars ... she just couldn't.  
  
She felt her hands being pulled, and opened her eyes to find Harm trying to break her grasp on the shirt. He was looking at her, and she could tell from his eyes that he was hungry for her. She refused to let go. He tried a different tack, placing his fingers once more on her inner thigh ... sliding them up slowly. She almost collapsed when he finally touched her center. He held onto her, and she held onto the shirt, her mind racing.  
  
I can't. I can't.   
  
Her eyes pleaded with his. She watched his expression fade from desire to concern as tears welled up and flooded from her eyes. She couldn't bear to watch him, shutting her eyes and cursing herself for what she knew she was doing to him.  
  
She felt a tug and realized Harm was directing them to the couch. He eased her down, letting her lie back against the cushions. He reached down and retrieved the sweatshirt and pants, silently helping her dress. Once they were on, she was able to remove the t-shirt from underneath. She looked up at him, grateful.  
  
Harm settled down next to her on the couch, encouraging her to rest her head on his bare chest again. She complied, one arm resting across his stomach, her fingers lacing with his. Harm sat quietly, his free hand stroking her hair. Cuddling against him, Mac drifted to sleep.  
  
--------  
  
Harm kept as still as he could, not wanting to disturb Mac's sleep. It had been so long since he'd seen her even try to relax. She held herself so tensely, always on her guard. Expecting an attack at any moment.  
  
The last half hour had been a blessing and a curse for him. He relished being able to touch her, but the scar tissue all over her back had twisted his gut. At first sight of them, he was right back in the interrogation room, the razor blades on the floor...  
  
He hadn't known what else to do. All he wanted was to show Mac how much he was feeling at that moment. Touching her had seemed so ... right. He hoped that he hadn't pushed her too far, fearing that she would not forgive him for trying to see all of her. Her response confirmed what he already knew - she needed him, and he swore to himself that he would be there for her, forever.   
  
Looking down at sleeping form, the top of her head under his hand, he was gripped with an emotion he almost couldn't handle. The hell that she endured had been for him. Yet here she was, so open and so soft. He didn't know how she could even speak to him, much less love him. He leaned forward and kissed her head, his fingers lazily tracing the back of her neck. His eyes growing heavy, Harm let his head recline on the back of the couch. He blinked a few times, then let sleep take him.  
  
Mac's screams woke him just a few minutes later. She was in a ball at the far end of the couch, pushing backwards with her feet. Her hands waved wildly in front of her, warding off some unseen assailant. Harm shook the sleep from his head, diving onto his knees beside Mac.  
  
"SARAH! SARAH!"  
  
Her terrified eyes were darting around the room. She was desperately trying to find something.  
  
"SARAH PLEASE! WHAT? WHAT?!!"  
  
"LIGHTS! OH GOD HARM TURN ON THE LIGHTS!!"  
  
Harm scrambled for the floor lamp by the couch. He turned it on, then headed for the reading lamp. He kept a worried eye on Mac, who was shaking violently on the couch. Only when the entire apartment was ablaze did she even start to calm down.  
  
Sweat poured off her ashen face. Her hair clung to her temples. Her fists were clenched so tightly, Harm had to use brute force to pry them open. When he took her hands, he saw blood on her palms. Her nails had dug into her skin. Mac was panting for breath, taking sharp, ragged breaths. Trying to calm herself.  
  
Harm sat down carefully in front of her. God, she looked so lost. His heart broke for her, remembering the exhausted woman from just ten minutes ago, sleeping peacefully in his arms.  
  
"Sarah, can you tell me?"  
  
"Shadows. The shadows are everywhere," she croaked, "and I can't escape from them."  
  
Mac looked at him, and he saw the agony in her face. It haunted him to see her so beaten down, her eyes sunken and on the verge of surrender.  
  
"There's nowhere I can hide, Harm..."  
  
Still shaking, she got up and went into his bedroom. In a few minutes she was back out, dressed in her own clothes. Her face was a mask of determination - the Marine in her again coming to her rescue.  
  
Without another word, she walked to the door, opened it, and was gone.  
  
  
ROCK CREEK PARK  
PICNIC AREA  
TWO DAYS LATER  
  
"...and I was hoping she would come back last night, but she didn't. I wasn't sure if I should call her, reach out or ..." Harm slouched with his cover twirling in his hands.   
  
Dr. Lange turned on the park bench to see him better.  
  
"Harm, do you have any idea how important your acceptance of her is? I can understand your hesitation, but so far I think your instincts have been spot on."  
  
Harm flashed a quick grin at her. "Really?"  
  
"You gave her something she's not ready to give herself. I hope she uses it as a source of strength, a stepping stone..."  
  
"But she's 'the only one who can help herself'" Harm quoted.  
  
Dr. Lange gave him a playful thump on the shoulder. "Yes, that's right. And I'll thank you not to mock my advice, young man." She couldn't help but grin at him.  
  
"Aye, Aye, Ma'am."   
  
It felt good just to be able to talk about his own doubts with the doctor. He knew he had to be solid around Mac, for her sake, but inside he struggled with his own demons.   
  
"Dr., what if she doesn't take the next step? I can't leave her out there all alone. She needs me."  
  
"Yes, I agree with you. Sarah feels like she is adrift, trapped in a place where no one can help her. My job, and yours, is to convince her that she isn't alone. That she can get through this. That there is an end ..."  
  
"... that she CAN escape the shadows." Harm interrupted.   
  
"Shadows?"  
  
"Something she said the other night, coming out of the nightmare. And I think I know what she's talking about. I've seen them, too."  
  
Dr. Lange listened intently as Harm told her about his dreams in the desert, and his waking nightmare onboard the Henry. When he finished, the older woman remained silent for several minutes. Only then did she speak.  
  
"I see ..." Harm looked up at her words, watching as she rose slowly from the bench, brushing her skirt as she stood.  
  
"Harm, would you be willing to do something for me? A little experiment?"  
  
Harm tilted his head, "Experiment?"  
  
"Yes," Dr. Lange stood up, brushing her skirt.   
  
"I have an idea on how we can get Sarah on the right track." 


	9. Denoument

Title: A TRIP TO AFGHANISTAN IX   
DENOUMENT  
Series:A Trip to Afghanistan  
Author:Piper86  
Email:improvkris@yahoo.com  
Rating:PG-13   
Classification:Harm/Mac pairing, JAG story  
Spoilers:Season 2, the Stalker (just a pinch)  
  
  
CHAPTER IX: DENOUMENT  
  
  
Mac gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter as she maneuvered through traffic, winding her way towards Dr. Lange's office. Every appointment sent her into a spin of apprehension. Her mind worked overtime trying to second-guess her counselor.  
  
What is she going to ask me to do this time?  
  
The question nagged at her, twisting the knot in her stomach tighter. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her mouth pressed into a small "o". She had used this tactic over and over in court, whenever her opponent's antics threatened to make her lose her composure.  
  
It was the same tactic she often found herself using around a certain Navy Commander ...   
  
Mac couldn't help but smile at the memory of their first face-off in court. Oh, she had been furious with him! She had barely kept a lid on her anger in the courtroom, and had let him have it when they got outside. But he hadn't caved like she had expected, even hoped, he would. He had fired back. She did take some solace in the fact that he never tried to "sandbag" her again.  
  
As she turned into the Bethesda Outpatient parking area, she realized her hands had relaxed their grip on the wheel. Just a few moments thinking about Harm worked magic. She parked and headed towards Dr. Lange's office building. As she entered the lobby, she could feel the Marine in her positioning to take over.   
  
To keep her safe.  
  
Her internal clock told her she was 43 seconds late for her appointment. She hesitated, her hand poised to knock. She debated for a moment whether to go in, or just run. By sheer force of will, she felt her knuckles rap on the wood.  
  
"Come in," came Dr. Lange's voice from inside.  
  
Mac took another deep breath, and held it as she entered the room.  
  
"Ah, Sarah," Dr. Lange came around from behind her desk, "I wondered if you would come today."  
  
"I was wondering myself just now," Mac said quietly.  
  
The older woman squeezed Mac's shoulders in a comforting gesture, then directed her to one of the over-stuffed "comfort" chairs she used for their sessions.  
  
"Sarah, I would very much like to talk about your not sleeping. Can you try that with me?"  
  
Mac leaned forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees. Her hands clasped in front of her as if in prayer.  
  
"I don't know," her vacant eyes raised to look at the doctor, "I don't know..."   
  
"You have a history of trouble sleeping,"  
  
Mac appeared a little startled. How did she know that? Had they discussed it? Their conversations were jumbled in her head. "I've had bouts of insomnia since I was a girl, yes..."  
  
"Well, let's start there. Do you have an idea why sleep has been a difficulty?"  
  
Mac rubbed her palms slowly, back and forth, against each other. The tension eased from her forehead. These were old demons the doctor wanted to discuss. Old friends.   
  
She spent the entire hour talking about her abusive childhood, being abandoned by her mother, her fear of losing those she loved. She even brought up the time Coster had stalked her.  
  
Dr. Lange listened intently, choosing not to interrupt with questions. Every time Mac glanced up, the doctor's eyes were shining directly into hers, silently encouraging.  
  
Their time was almost up when Mac finally finished. She sat back in her chair, letting herself relax into it. Dr. Lange sat up and scribbled some brief notes before breaking the silence.  
  
"Sarah, I just want to ask one thing at this point. I want you to go home and think about this question for next time.   
  
Sarah ... what makes sleep so different now from before? Why has it become your enemy?"  
  
Mac's brow furrowed at the question. She knew the answer, but she didn't want to face it. Or think about it.  
  
Dr. Lange walked her to the door and watched Mac exit the building. She then moved to her desk, picking up the phone and dialing a three-digit number. She spoke briefly to the person at the other end.  
  
"It's all right, she's done for today."  
  
A few seconds later, the door to her office opened and Harm stepped through.  
  
"Doctor, I know I said I'd do anything to help Sarah, but how the hell can I be helping her by going behind her back?"  
  
"She's a tough nut, Harm. You know that." Dr. Lange sighed, "I know this seems unorthodox..."  
  
"... to say the LEAST" Harm cut her off. "I'm not sure I should have told you all that about her past ..."  
  
"Just let me finish. I believe I can help Sarah, and I think you are the key. She feels the most comfortable ... the safest ... with you. If she's going to face her demons, I think it will be with you."  
  
"Doctor, she's been so close to opening up to me, but every time she reaches the edge, I can feel her back away." Harm sat down in the chair where Mac had been sitting just a few minutes ago. He ran a hand through his hair.  
  
"Harm, you know I cannot break patient-doctor privilege. I can't share with you what we spoke about, and I can't have you sit in on her sessions without her consent. She's not ready for that yet.   
  
she winked at him, "but I CAN tell you that I laid some groundwork today. I've got her thinking, and I hope I've put some cracks in the walls she's built around herself."  
  
Harm looked up at her, his eyes questioning. "Tell me what you want me to do."  
  
"Harm, I want you to visit Sarah tonight. Unannounced. I think she will be glad to see you ... she'll need you. I want you to talk with her, but more importantly I want you to LISTEN."  
  
Dr. Lange stood up and walked over to stand in front of Harm. Her eyes bore into his.   
  
"And most of all, Harm ... I need you to mention shadows."  
  
Harm blinked in surprise, standing up and forcing Dr. Lange to take a step backwards.  
  
"You want me to WHAT?!"  
  
"Harm, listen to me. You know Sarah is haunted by what happened to her in Afghanistan. She is being tormented by those Shadows you told me about, but she will not discuss them with me. You were there. You shared the experience with her. You have a connection to what she is going through. I need you to break through that wall, so I can help her."  
  
Harm looked down at his cover, gripped in both hands. His knuckles were white. His voice choked with emotion as he tried to speak.  
  
"She may not ... she could ... I can't lose her."  
  
Dr. Lange nodded, placing her weathered hand over his. "I know, Harm, I know. And I truly believe she feels the same way about you. I know this all sounds very unorthodox. She may not react well at first, but I don't think she'll run. Not from you. Especially not when you turn on that pilot's charm of yours."  
  
Harm nodded slowly, willing to do anything if it meant helping Mac. He took a deep breath, flashed a grin at the doctor, grabbed his cover and headed for the door.   
  
"All right, doctor. I'll do what I can."  
  
Harm stepped out into the hallway and headed towards the back entrance, where he had parked so Mac wouldn't see his car. His mind was turning around what Dr. Lange had said.   
  
Unorthodox was certainly the word. And while the lawyer in him questioned Dr. Lange's approach -- and even her sanity -- Harm couldn't help but like the woman. She had a little of the Admiral's no-nonsense, get the job done attitude.  
  
Reaching his car, he climbed in behind the wheel and headed for home. He needed to clear his head if he was going to be of any help to Dr. Lange, or Mac ...   
  
  
MAC'S APARTMENT  
GEORGETOWN  
LATER THAT NIGHT  
  
Ever since she arrived home, Mac had busied herself with anything and everything to keep from thinking. She had walked in the door and decided that the entire apartment needed a good cleaning. Afternoon had faded into evening as she vacuumed, dusted, cleaned and scrubbed.   
  
She was now kneeling beside the tub, her torso leaning over the edge. Her arm worked in furious circles to scrub the cleanser into the sides and around the drain. She then turned on the faucet, using her hand to sweep waves of water around the tub, rinsing it clean. Her t-shirt was wet down one side and her knees were beginning to protest against the hard tile floor.  
  
The doorbell startled her. She jumped a little, banging the back of her hand on the underside of the faucet. Biting her lip and cursing, she turned the water off and headed for the door. A small cut trickled blood on the back of her hand, and she put her mouth to it as she opened the door.  
  
Harm stood in front of her.  
  
"Harm. Hi ..." she managed, surprised to see him.  
  
"Hi yourself," he grinned, "hey, what happened?"  
  
"Small argument between me and the bathtub. The bathtub won."   
  
"Let me see that," Harm stepped into the room, taking her hand in both of his. He gently pressed the flesh, releasing quickly when she gasped.  
  
"You're going to have a nasty bruise there, Marine."  
  
"Tell me something I don't know, sailor." She chided.  
  
"Let me get you some ice," he headed toward the kitchen, returning with a couple of ice cubes in a dishtowel. He held her hand and placed the ice over the wound. His fingers stroked her palm from underneath. She closed her eyes, feeling a shiver of energy from his touch. They stayed that way for several minutes, no words between them.  
  
Harm finally broke the silence. "I wasn't sure if you were planning to come to my place again tonight, after ... well, after last time. I wanted to see how you were doing."  
  
Mac opened her eyes, seeing the genuine concern reflected in his gaze. She wanted to lose herself in his eyes. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Gaining control.  
  
"I'm all right, I guess. The session with Dr. Lange was a little rough today."  
  
"Want to tell me about it?"  
  
"It's just ... she made me talk about my sleeping,"  
  
"What sleeping? You sleep?" he said teasingly, trying to lighten her mood.  
  
Mac gave him a playful shove on the shoulder.  
  
"Cut it out, flyboy. You know what I mean."  
  
Harm nodded. "Go on," he said.  
  
"She thinks ... she's just ... " Mac stood, pulling her hand away from Harm's. She began pacing back and forth. "Harm, you know I've had trouble sleeping most of my life, and I've learned to deal with it. But now ... it's different."  
  
Harm stood up, intent on taking her in his arms. But something held him back. Dr. Lange's voice seeped into his thoughts.  
  
More importantly, I want you to LISTEN.  
  
Harm sat back against the arm of the couch, resting his hands on his thighs and watching Mac. She was now going back and forth at a frantic pace.  
  
"It's like she can read my thoughts. She knows it's different now, and she wants me to talk about it. I ... I don't know if I can, Harm. I don't know if I can beat this." She turned to look at him, her eyes full of despair.  
  
Harm stood slowly, reaching out one hand to cup the side of her face. She pressed her head into his hand as he let his thumb brush her cheek. His voice was a whisper.  
  
"Tell me, Sarah. Tell me about the Shadows."  
  
She reacted as if he had burned her flesh. Her eyes flew open and she stumbled back away from him. Harm took a step forward, reaching for her. But she scrambled away, bolting for the door. Before Harm knew what was happening, she was running full tilt down the street.  
  
Mac's chest felt like it was going to split apart. Her heart hammered against her ribs, her one lung working overtime as she sprinted down the street. Tears blinded her. She turned onto a jogging path she knew well, and ran on.  
  
She wanted so desperately to talk to Harm. He had been there for her from the beginning of this hell, and she knew he wouldn't leave her. But just his mentioning the shadows was enough to bring them into the waking world. He had barely finished his request when she saw it. The dark Shadow towering up behind Harm, looking down on her. Laughing.  
  
She had to get away.  
  
Her breath was becoming labored. She felt a burning pain in her side, knowing she wasn't getting enough air. She stumbled over a tree root poking up through the path. She fell hard, taking the brunt of it on her palms and knees. She felt something tugging at her ankle, and turned to see the Shadow groping for her. She screamed, struggling to get up, to keep running.  
  
She bolted from the path and tore into some underbrush. Each branch scraping her skin felt like the Shadow's fingers, grasping her. She smashed through the bushes wildly, arms thrashing in front of her to clear a path. She felt nothing but pain every time she breathed, running on pure adrenaline now. Her foot caught again, sending her sprawling onto the ground. She lay there, panting heavily. Sweat poured from her. She couldn't breathe. She could feel herself on the verge of passing out.  
  
At that moment, Harm burst through the bushes from the direction she'd come. She could barely hear him calling her name through the rushing sound in her ears. He was on his knees beside her, trying to get her to sit up. She was still gasping for air. He held her gently, rubbing her back and trying to calm her. She clutched a fistful of his shirt with her grubby hand.   
  
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, her breathing began to slow. The pain in her chest subsided to a dull ache. She could focus a little now, and kept her eyes glued to Harm's shirt, unable to look him in the eye. She felt Harm lifting her to her feet. His strong arm wrapped around her, she buried her face in his chest. They stood there for a long time, wrapped around each other. Mac finally pulled away from Harm, looking at his now-damp shirt. Only then did she realize she was crying.  
  
Harm said nothing. He put an arm around her waist and walked her back to the apartment. Once inside, he took her into the bathroom and lowered the toilet seat lid, moving her onto it. The smell of cleanser was strong in the room.  
  
Mac watched him, mesmerized as he found a washcloth and ran it under warm water. He wiped her face with it, then her palms. He removed her dirty shoes and socks, then gently cleaned her feet. She trembled a little at his tenderness.   
  
Harm then walked over to the bathtub, turning on the water. He switched the showerhead on, and gestured for Mac to get in. He left the room, closing the door behind him. Mac slowly stripped out of her clothes, and stepped into the spray.  
  
She emerged from the bathroom clad in the robe she kept there. Her hair was wet and clean, and her body a little more relaxed. Harm was sitting in front of the fireplace, nursing a pile of kindling. She silently sat down on the couch, watching him work. He soon had a nice fire going, stoking it with a few small pieces of wood. She stared at the fire, sensing it when he got up and sat down beside her on the couch.  
  
They sat in silence, the warmth from the fire heating their skin. Mac took a deep breath, shuddering. Harm reached out and took her hand, squeezing it in his.  
  
"Mac," he began cautiously, "this is the first time I've been near a fire with you since we ... since Afghanistan."   
  
Mac turned to see him looking at her intently. He ran his hand through his hair before continuing.  
  
"Back when the dreams started. I've had ... I've seen them, Mac. I've ... I've seen the Shadows."  
  
Mac's breath caught in her throat. She turned her body on the couch so she could face him.  
  
Harm looked down at his hand caressing hers, closing his eyes before he continued.  
  
"Sarah, the night we brought you down from the Taliban camp, we had to stop because of a sandstorm. You were in bad shape, and I was afraid. I dreamed that night ..." He squeezed his eyes tightly, tilting his head as if wishing away the experience.  
  
Mac listened as he told her about the dream. About the shadows grabbing and scoring her body, and the fire that prevented him from helping her. Her heart broke at the pain etched across his face.  
  
He went on to tell her about their time aboard the Henry, and how he had seen the Shadows there, only this time not in a dream. His face seemed to age in the firelight as he poured out his terror to her.  
  
She found herself stroking his face with her fingers. He looked up at her, his eyes clouded with guilt and shame.  
  
"Sarah, when I think about what you went through, what you lost..." he whispered, "and that you did it to protect me."  
  
"Harm," was all she could manage to say. She felt a new stream of tears slipping down her face. She took his face in both hands, leaning forward and kissing his eyelids. She pulled away, whispering again.  
  
"Harm ..."  
  
She looked up to meet his eyes. Shaking, she began to speak.  
  
"I would have done anything to keep you safe. I would have died out there if it meant you would be all right. I didn't expect to get out of there. I didn't expect to live, Harm."  
  
Harm felt her hands trembling. He gently placed one hand on her thigh, reassuring.  
  
"While I was unconscious, a voice called out to me, encouraging me to let go. It came from the shadows. It sang to me Harm. I ... I couldn't get away from it. And it got harder and harder to resist it."  
  
She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them, pulling herself into a protective cocoon. Harm did not try to stop her when she pulled away from him. He just listened.  
  
"But then I would hear your voice. It was begging me to fight. So I did. You kept me alive, Harm. But IT wouldn't give up. It came to me again while I was in surgery. It was singing and laughing. But It was different ... It didn't want me anymore. It wanted something more than me. It ... It took away my children, Harm. It didn't get me like it wanted, so it took what mattered to me most."  
  
She started shaking violently. Harm touched her bare feet, slowly caressing them with his warm hand. She looked straight into his eyes, the tears coming freely.   
  
"I wanted children so badly, Harm. I wanted ... your children. I wanted to give you a family."  
  
Saying this, it felt like a dam burst inside her. The walls came crashing down, stripping her insides. She let go of her knees, curling against Harm as he held her tightly.  
  
"But it's all been taken away from me. I didn't die, Harm, but I feel like I may as well have. I can't give you what you deserve. I don't want to lose you, but I can't ask you to give up so much."  
  
She felt Harm's fingers pressing against her lips. He slowly replaced them with his mouth, kissing her deeply. Savoring her. She let out a small moan and returned his kiss. She held onto him, needing his strength. She felt his hand at the back of her head, the other pressed against her back.   
  
"Sarah," he breathed when they finally parted. "The only thing I care about is that you are here, with me. I thought I'd lost you, and you were given back to me. It's an amazing gift, Sarah. And I'm not about to give it up."  
  
He moved his mouth to the side of her neck, caressing it with his lips. She felt his hand tugging at the sash of her robe. It came loose, and his fingers slipped inside.  
  
She grabbed his hand, trying to stop him, but he moved to kiss her again, breaking her resistance. His fingers found what they sought ... the winding scar from her surgery. He gently traced the entire outline, flattening his hand and resting it against her belly.  
  
He pushed the robe open a little further, letting his gaze follow the trail his fingers had made. Then his eyes rose to meet hers, capturing her gaze and holding it.  
  
"I've seen it, Sarah ... and I'm still here."  
  
He pushed the robe open a little further, dipping his head so his lips could trace the scars. She gasped at the feel of him, her hands moving to his shoulders.   
  
"You're my family," he said softly. "and it's enough." His head lifted back up, his lips finding hers again.  
  
"I love you, Sarah."  
  
He stood up, pulling her with him. "You're all I want. All I need. If we're meant to have more, then it will happen."  
  
She felt his hands slide onto her shoulders, then down the sides of the robe, shrugging it onto the floor. She stood before him as she had in his dream, naked and beautiful. The scars disappeared, becoming a part of her beauty. He gently lifted her in his arms, and walked towards the bedroom.  
  
Later that night, Sarah MacKenzie slept peacefully in the arms of the man she loved.   
  
The Shadows did not come again.   
  
  
THE END 


End file.
